Sticks and Stones
by EnsignRicky
Summary: <html><head></head>General Grievous is harder to kill than you think. Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars. There. I no longer have to type it in every chapter.</html>
1. Chapter 1

**A/N  
>Hello! This is my first story, so reviews are very welcome. Constructive criticism is accepted and will be used to build and correct any mistakes, but flames will be ignored. This is short, but if you guys want more, be sure to let me know. Thanks for reading!<strong>

**Disclaimer: Copyright of Star Wars goes to Disney. I do not claim to own anything.**

"Have the droid armies completed shutdown, Viceroy?" the blue image of Darth Sidious spoke.

Nute Gunray shuddered. He hated that voice. So calm and menacing. That voice had convinced him to attack the peaceful planet of Naboo, 13 standard years earlier. He had been tricked by that voice. Betrayed by it.

The Viceroy shuddered again. He had been drawn into this war. Lured by promises of fortune and free trade, the pure desperation of his situation after the trials, and by the words of Count Dooku.

_Count Dooku,_ he thought, _also a sith_. Dooku had lied and betrayed him, just as Sidious had done. Only after he had gave his allegiance to the CIS had Dooku revealed the truth. That he too was a sith lord, and Sidious's apprentice.

He had wanted to leave, to salvage what he could and get out of the mess. But then Geonosis had came, and it was too late, for any of the Separatist council.

They were locked in.

He had then wanted to keep a low head in the war, minimize his losses, but no. He soon became one of the biggest targets for the Republic. He was positive he was in the top five on their most desired list.

The entirety of the Council had been on the run for almost a year. From Belderone to Utapau to here on Mustafar. Dooku had been killed at the failed attack on Coruscant, Grievous had been unheard from since Utapau, and now here Gunray was. Leader of the CIS.

That probably put him at the very top of the most desired list. Not the place to be in if you wanted to keep a low profile.

"Yes, my lord. Nearly an hour ago," Gunray said.

"Well done, Viceroy. You and the rest of the council will be handsomely rewarded for your efforts. When my new apprentice, Darth Vader arrives, he will... take care of you." the hologram responded.

"Thank you, my lord," Gunray answered, while silently he was thinking, _Another one? How many of these people are there?_

Excited chatter erupted as soon as the hologram faded. The rest of the surviving CIS Council. It seemed they liked the idea of being rewarded.

Gunray had almost failed to notice that they were in the room with him. It appeared that they had forgotten how badly the war was going.

It had been going well at first, they had pushed the Republic out of nearly every system in the outer rim. Then, things had gone wrong. The Republic's clone army, even if outnumbered by over 10 to 1 in _every battle_, had _somehow_ managed to accomplish the nigh impossible, and take back all the systems they had lost, along with many that had defected to the CIS peacefully. Gunray sighed.

Unless Grievous had survived, the CIS was doomed. As much as the Viceroy hated the repulsive cyborg, he was the best military commander they had. They could survive under a commander like him.

* * *

><p>Grievous awoke to a world of pain. Attempting to move, he struggled against several restraints that hold him in place. "He's awake!" a voice says. Highly distorted, his extremely damaged ears can barely hear the words.<p>

Trying to speak, he opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. "Turn on his vocabulator," the same voice speaks, still barely audible.

A few clicks emanate from his mouth, signaling his newly found ability to talk. "W-what?" he rasps. "Sir, you suffered some… damages. We had to completely repair your body." He recognizes that voice now. One of his elite IG-100 magnaguards. The droid is standing by a control console, behind him medical droids of various descriptions were monitoring Grievous's condition.

"How did you find me? I- was shot." _By Kenobi,_ he silently added. _The stinking Jedi cheated!_

"When your critical systems began shutting down, your emergency beacon activated. When we found you, you were barely alive, and we had to operate. Your starfighter was also gone. Currently, you are on the _Independence_, orbiting one of Utapau's moons."

Grievous, wondering exactly what "damages" entailed, looked downward. Damages was an understatement.

His armor had been completely removed, revealing decaying scarred tissue from long ago in the shuttle crash. But that was nothing compared to what Kenobi had done to him.

His chest plates were torn open, and inside lay… well, not much of anything now. Where his heart used to be was a repulsing black shape. His lungs, already damaged by Mace Windu, were almost completely obliterated.

Every other organ was gone too far to even be recognizable. Grievous felt stirrings of rage. Kenobi would pay. This was the second time the Jedi had done something like this to him, third if you counted Windu.

Looking back up, he noticed the blue veil of bacta for the first time. "How long do I have to stay in this box?" He asks, getting used to speaking now. "Approximately 3 weeks, sir. By then your surviving organic components will be almost fully healed, and your replacements will be ready to be installed. We then have to replace the cybernetic systems, and you will be fully operational," the magnaguard answered.

He growled. "Very well, but speed up the process as much as possible. There are… certain things that I must accomplish."

"Of course, General," the magnaguard replied.

_Kenobi.. you will pay for what you have done. This is too far…_


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N  
>Hello to all of you who are reading this story. I know this update is only a day after the last one, but I plan on easing into it more after this, probably 2-3 times a week. Enjoy, and if you want to give feedback, then please review!<strong>

**Disclaimer: I do not claim to own Star Wars. That right goes to Disney.**

The night black starfighter descended into the fiery Mustafar atmosphere, landing on the platform outside of the Kleggor Corp mining facility. Anakin Skywalker stepped out of the starfighter, volcanic ash lightly dusting his boots. No, not Anakin Skywalker.

Darth Vader.

Anakin Skywalker was dead.

He had died on Coruscant, inside of Palpatine's office. Darth Vader was born minutes later.

Vader had gone to the temple, slaughtered the Jedi, and reported back to his master. Rather… temporary master. As soon as Sidious revealed the secret of power over death, their relationship would undergo a transformation. A quite fatal transformation.

He was confident he could kill Sidious. He was the Chosen One after all. But for now, the illusion of servitude must be kept. And for that, he must enter the mining operations base. To some, that might pose a problem. But not for him.

For he had the entrance codes.

* * *

><p>Nute Gunray looked at the viewscreen, seeing the black hooded figure step out of his starfighter. <em>This must be the Darth Vader that Sidious was talking about,<em> he thought.

Gunray hoped that Vader was better than Sidious or Dooku was. But… he didn't think so. From his experience with the sith, all of them were alike.

Treacherous and deceitful. However, Gunray and the rest of the council seemed to know their place.

All of them showed various signs of nervousness. Without turning his head, he could see San Hill adjusting his long dress robes, Rune Haako shifting his weight from foot to foot, and Poggle the Lesser flapping his wings about, chattering nervously. Behind him, Shu Mai was tightening the elaborate hairdo she wore, and Wat Tambor was adjusting the gas mix in his pressure suit. Somwhere off in a corner, perhaps in the conference room, Passel Argente was talking to his aide, Denaria Kee.

Vader entered the main door, heading through the hallways to the control center. All of the council members could feel the approaching darkness as the sith entered the room.

San Hill, perhaps remembering the reward promised, gathered his courage. "Lord Vader, on behalf of the CIS Council, allow me to be the first to-"

"Very well, you will be the first." Vader said, reaching up and removed the hood that concealed his face.

Beneath the hood was a familiar sight. Too familiar.

There was a collective gasp amongst the council. "You're- You're Anakin Skywalker!" Hill shouted, panicking. Vader- _No, Skywalker_, Gunray thought, -drew a sky blue lightsaber, ignited it, and curved it in a loop that sliced through all three of the Muun's hearts.

"The resemblance," he said, speaking perhaps to the chairman of the IBC that now lay dead at his feet, or maybe the rest of the council that was staring at him in shock and fear, "is deceptive."

* * *

><p>Everyone moved at once. Many council members ran for the briefing room, hoping for safety there. Shu Mai bolted for the door, and began working furiously at the control panel.<p>

Poggle the Lesser began running towards Shu Mai, but was killed almost instantly when a black gloved hand tore out one of the security consoles and smashed it into him, leaving nothing but some sickly looking goo pinned against the wall.

Shu Mai successfully opened the door. Giving a yell of triumph, she began running once again. It seemed, however, that her luck had run out, as the black cloaked Jedi landed in front of the terrified Gossam.

With a sizzle, a beam of plasma impaled her through the gut. Falling to the ground, she went into hysterics, and blubbered, "A-a-a _handsome_ reward! We w-were promised a _handsome _reward!"

And with a sarcastic grin, Skywalker answered, "I'm your reward. Don't you find me handsome?" With that, he swung his blue blade, and the Commerce Guild's President was relieved of office.

Gunray stood frozen, staring at Skywalker in shock. _How could a Jedi do this?_ He asked himself. Numbly, he ran over to the control panel, summoning the few remaining guards. A dozen B-1 battle droids entered through side doors, and recognizing their target, opened fire.

All of them were destroyed in seconds.

Skywalker continued his killing spree. Heads, limbs, and bodies of all descriptions littered the primary control complex. The remaining council members retreated into the conference room, hoping for relative safety there.

Gunray locked the door, trying to keep the Jedi menace out. It made no difference.

For a few seconds, it was quiet. It seemed like the door, made out of the strongest materials known to the galaxy, had successfully kept the murderer out! This thought brought hope to the minds of the few remaining CIS members.

But with a pained groan, the door caved in. Then it crumpled into a large, jagged, metal ball, and flew into the room. An unlucky Neimoidian aide who wasn't quick enough to get out of the way received the full force of the ball, and slammed into the transparisteel window on the other side of the room.

And through the hole where there was once a door, stepped the Jedi.

Argente, who happened to be standing closest to the sith lord, was quickly bisected. Tambor and Haako ran to the other side of the room. Gunray was already there, looking desperately for anything that might help him survive.

Unfortunately for them, Skywalker didn't seem intent on letting them live. Coming to Haako first, he stopped to listen to what the strangely calm Neimoidian had to say.

"We _surrender_, can't you hear us? A Jedi cannot kill the unarmed." And with another sarcastic comment, Skywalker answered, "You fought a war to destroy the Jedi. Congratulations on your success," before stabbing him through the chest.

Skywalker turned to Tambor, who was futilely trying to claw his way through the walls to escape. Looking fearfully at Skywalker, Tambor cried, "I'll give you anything! Anything you want!"

With two strokes, Skywalker's blue blade removed the Skakoan's arms and head. "Thank you," he said to the corpse.

Glancing around, Gunray realized that he was the final surviving member of the CIS council. Skywalker lept, landing directly in front of him. Completely losing it to a combination of fear, grief, and shock, he fell to his knees in front of Skywalker.

Grasping at the last option left to him, he groveled in front of Skywalker, begging for his life. "Lord Sidious… promised us peace! We only want to-" he was cut off, quite literally. Skywalker had slashed him across the chest.

Gasping for air, he tumbled over onto his side. _Sidious has betrayed me…_ Gunray thought, _Again…_

The last sight he saw was Skywalker's cold eyes. _That's odd. They're yellow. I wonder, what could that mean?_

Then Nute Gunray, Viceroy of the Trade Federation, last leader of the CIS, died.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N  
><strong>**Hello again! Apologies that this chapter is short. I've been kinda busy lately and haven't had much time to write. But don't worry, they'll be longer in the future.  
><strong>**Disclaimer: I do not claim to own Star Wars. This story is purely for the amusement of myself and others.**

"There you are, sir. Good as new!" A4-D spoke. Sitting up, Grievous flexed his metal fingers. "How long until I'm at peak efficiency?" he asked his medical droid.

He still wasn't completely ready for combat. His artificial lungs and electric heart were still adjusting to the rest of his body.

Newly arrived robotic parts from his castle on Vassek had been welded on to his body. His eyes were now as artificial as the rest of him. All that had survived his encounter with Kenobi was his brain, and even that had barely been saved.

Grievous once again felt the stirrings of rage at the thought of Kenobi. He had ruined him again! Even more than in the shuttle crash! And Grievous felt that he had to pay for what he had done.

_An eye for an eye, so to speak,_ Grievous thought. He would hunt Kenobi down. With the droid army still at his disposal, he knew he could. Kenobi could not evade his full efforts for long.

"You'll have to relax for a couple hours to get full motor control back, and then after a couple days, you will be as good as you were before Coruscant. You will simply have to be patient," the droid answered.

"Patient? How can I be patient when the Jedi who almost killed me is walking free? He could be anywhere by now."

He started to worry when A4-D didn't answer, standing silent for a few moments. "I see… you've been out of the loop," he said finally. "There have been several government changes since you've been here."

Giving the droid his deadly glare, he asked, "What kind of changes? What happened?"

Knowing all to well what commonly befell the many droids who received that glare, A4-D backed away slowly, and said, "I'll explain. After you were almost killed by Kenobi, several things happened. We've been monitoring the holonet feeds, and it appears that the the Republic is just gone. Replaced by an Empire of sorts. It's still lead by Palpatine, but he's… different. Much more militaristic and threatening. And the CIS is, well..."

"Out with it!" Grievous shouted, causing his medical droid to jump.

"The CIS has been officially disbanded," the startled droid said. "They simply don't exist anymore. There was no formal surrender, no arrangements. The blasters just stopped shooting, and there has been no mention of the Confederate Council. They vanished.

"It also appears the Jedi rebelled against the Republic Senate. Four masters attempted to assassinate Palpatine himself! The clone army is still searching for survivors."

Grievous slowly stood up, letting out a small hiss. "So what you are telling me," he said menacingly, "is that the Republic has been dissolved, the Jedi are dead, and I am standing on the _last _Confederate ship still _existing_!?"

A4-D took several steps back. "W-well in a manner of speaking- I mean, that is... accurate." The way the droid phrased the sentence, it sounded more like a question than a statement, as if asking for confirmation.

Grievous looked at the droid, debating whether or not to kill him. After several seconds of staring at the already fearful droid, Grievous decided against it. After all, he was the only medical droid competent to have lasted this long.

Turning around swiftly and walking to the other side of the room, he grabbed his cloak and lightsabers off of a small rack. "Then Palpatine has robbed me of my revenge. If Kenobi is dead, then I will have to find another target."

A4-D perked up at this statement. "Well, actually sir, Palpatine has released the casualty lists of the Jedi killed. Kenobi isn't on them! Which means that he is most likely still alive!"

Grievous turned once again, fastening the Kaleesh cloak around his metal neck. "Didn't one of my guards mention that my starfighter was missing?"

A4-D nodded, "Well, yes, sir, but I hardly see how that has anything to do with-"

"Fetch me the remote navigation files of my starfighter," Grievous said. "We're going Jedi hunting.


	4. Chapter 4

Pain. That was all Vader could feel. Terrible Pain.

His left arm severed, his legs burning in the lava, he was helpless. Obi-Wan… he had done this to him. His former Master was now staring at him, likely in shock for what he had done to his apprentice.

Vader let out another moan. Trying desperately to claw his way up with one remaining hand, the mechanical one, it seemed hopeless. The volcanic ash gave way under his hand's strength, and sent him rolling further down the beach.

"You were the Chosen One! It was said that you would destroy the Sith, not join them!"

He gazed up at Obi-Wan. Was it he who had spoken? Vader couldn't tell. The roar of lava behind him was growing stronger. Much further down the hill, and he might roll into it…

No. That wasn't possible. He was Darth Vader. He was the Chosen One, invincible. And yet, Obi-Wan had managed to remove three of his limbs. Limbs that had rolled down the slope, and were now burning in the lava.

Vader lowered his gaze, still moaning. He was a failure, a Sith for half a day, and defeated in combat by his former master. _Sidious better start looking for a new apprentice,_ he thought, _because I doubt I'm going to be around much longer_.

"It was you who would bring balance to the force, not leave it in darkness!"

Looking up, Vader was sure that this time it was Obi-Wan. Rage clouding his vision, he snapped. "I hate you!" he shouted, trying once again to crawl up the bank, to destroy his former master.

With the same results as before, he slid back on the ash. "You were my brother Anakin! I loved you… but I could not save you." Kenobi continued. Vader kept trying, sliding further and further down the black beach.

Then, with one gust of wind, it was over. A small amount of lava slid up the bank, just enough to spark a fire.

And it did.

Starting with his severed legs, it spread up his body. Vader was completely engulfed. The pain was worse than anything he had ever imagined.

It burned for minutes, yet seemed like days. His clothing melted onto his skin, and his skin melted away. In agony, he gazed up at Obi-Wan.

He was staring at Vader in shock, appalled by what he had caused. Vader was losing his vocal cords, and his voice rough and jagged, he rasped, "Obi-Wan…"

Obi-Wan, hearing his voice, removed all expression from his face. Turning around, he slowly walked up the beach slope, picking up Vader's lightsaber as he went. Vader, watching him go, felt the fire extinguish itself. That was a stroke of luck for him, at last.

With a soft groan he lowered his head, succumbing to his wounds. Minutes passed. Falling unconscious, he could see two things, both of great significance.

One, a silver ship, Nubian, lifting up from the landing pad. That silver ship contained his love, the one reason he now had to try living. It lifted up, past the stars, heading off to the east. Escaping his sight, he turned to the other point of interest.

A Neimoidian shuttle, landing on another landing platform, protected by a squad of Vulture droids. Strange, since he had confirmed that the Confederate Council had all been destroyed. As the shuttle lifted off, he noticed something else.

A battle, up in space. He could barely make out the ring shape of a Lucrehulk battling with the Imperator he had arrived in.

His damaged body aside, he had a sudden, inexplicable, bad feeling about that shuttle.

* * *

><p>"General, we have detected a Republic cruiser in orbit of Mustafar. <em>Imperator<em>-class," the Muun captain spoke.

Having just exited hyperspace, the _Independence_ was hovering on the edge of the system, observing the Republic ship in orbit of the planet.

_Though I suppose it's an Imperial ship now,_ Grievous mused.

Having tracked his starfighter to a remote region of space halfway to Mustafar, the trail had vanished. However, at that point, a new ship had been detected, a Correlian corvette, heading in the direction of the core worlds. At that point, there were... complications. During the weeks since Grievous's near death experience, the corvette had intersected with several dozen other ships, and Kenobi could be on any one of them.

Of course, if he was still alive.

There was no guarantee that Kenobi had survived, or stolen his starfighter. It could have been some runaway, trying to escape Utapau for some unexplained reason. But Grievous was willing to bet that Kenobi was the one who had taken the shuttle. He knew how hard the Jedi was to kill.

Grievous had then decided to investigate Mustafar, and see if CIS council was really dead, or if it was just Imperial propaganda. And now here they were. But to get to the surface to confirm the survival or death of the council, they had to get past the _Imperator_ in orbit.

Grievous to the captain's report, "Is the _Independence_ able to destroy it? We need to reach the surface."

The _Independence_, a Lucrehulk carrier, was a veteran of many campaigns. First produced on Geonosis a week after the war began, it had been to many of the major conflicts throughout the war.

From the Second Battle of Geonosis to Umbara and on to Coruscant, it had taken it's fair share of beatings. It had also dished them out.

Led by the Muun captain Den Rise, the vessel was rumored to have single-handedly defended one of the Geonosian moons from a squad of Venators.

And it was these feats that made the _Independance_ catch Grievous's eye.

After the _Invisible Hand_ was destroyed at the Battle of Coruscant, Grievous had taken the _Independence_ as his personal flagship. Having it heavily modified after his arrival on Utapau, it now had much larger hangers and far more turbolaser batteries.

"Unknown, sir." the thin captain replied, "If we can catch it with it's shields down, we stand a good chance."

"Very well. Disengage Hyperdrive," the general commanded. "Launch group 1 fighters. And prepare me a shuttle. I'm going down to the surface."

* * *

><p>Explosions rocked the tiny shuttle and it's Vulture droid escort. DFS-9AD continued his role of protecting Friendly Unit 1. Friendly Base 1 was taking heavy fire from Enemy Unit 1.<p>

According to the organics, Friendly Unit 1 was high priority, and was not to be destroyed. DFS-9AD and the rest of his squad continued escorting Friendly unit 1 down to the planet.

DFS-9AD's threat indicator alert was activated. Enemy Fighter Group 4 had peeled off from the rest of the battle and began firing on Friendly Unit 1.

Flipping around, he and his squad began firing on Enemy Fighter Group 4. Several of them vanished in flashes of light, but seconds later, just as many of DFS-9AD's squad were destroyed.

Sending out a quick request of assistance, DFS-9AD dove into the fray, firing his payload of missiles at Enemy Fighter Group 4. Several of them exploded from impact, while many more were subjected to Friendly Unit Group 34, or Buzz Droids to the organics.

The rest of his squad did the same, and soon, Enemy Fighter Group 4 was no longer a threat. However, Enemy Fighter Groups 3 and 5 were now approaching.

The odds of surviving this wave of enemies was 34%. Not good odds. Friendly Fighter Groups 9 and 13 had arrived, which increased the odds of survival to 92%.

Enemy Fighter Group 5 was quickly destroyed, and 3 limped back to Enemy Base 1. The path was now clear to their target.

If DFS-9AD wasn't a droid and had a face, he would have smiled. But of course, he couldn't.

Droids can't smile.

* * *

><p>As soon as the shuttle touched down, Grievous began walking down the landing ramp. He didn't even wait for the ramp to fully touch the platform, he just made the small leap down the remaining foot of space.<p>

Walking across the platform, he noticed something… out of place. There were no guard droids. The council was _always_ protected by droids. The cowardly scum hated to be left vulnerable. This didn't look good.

He glanced at his 6 Magnaguards walking down the ramp. "IG-one-oh-four, advance with your squad into the facility. Check for anything out of place," the General ordered his bodyguards. There was a quick word of acknowledgement, then they entered the door in front of him.

Following behind, he saw IG-116 raise a hand as a signal to stop. Grievous pushed through his guards, and bent over to analyze their discovery.

A basic B-1 Battle Droid, unextraordinary except for what had killed it. There was a long slash across its chest, running the length of its left hip to right shoulder.

A lightsaber.

There were only a few who wielded that weapon. The Jedi, the Sith, and Grievous himself. Grievous knew he hadn't killed that droid. Tyrannus was dead. That left the Jedi and Sidious. But the Jedi had vanished.

Perhaps a surviving Jedi had discovered the location of the bunker, and arrested the council? Unlikely. The codes were a well kept secret. Known only to the council, Grievous himself, and… Sidious.

_Perhaps…_ Grievous thought tentatively, _Sidious was the one who did this?_ No. He led the CIS, why would he want to capture their leadership? _Unless…_

Sidious had mentioned on Utapau a new apprentice. Perhaps he wasn't a member of the CIS? A double agent who had infiltrated their highest ranks? _No._ Grievous mentally shook himself. He was grasping now.

"Continue," he ordered his guards. Advancing through the hallways, they found several more droids like the first the found. All killed by a lightsaber. Eventually, they reached the door to the control room.

They entered. In one corner, there was an alarm going off. "You," Grievous grunted, pointing at IG-128, "Check on that."

Turning back to the rest of the room, Grievous was surprised by the sheer amount of bodies. Was that Poggle the Lesser, smashed against the wall? Further investigation revealed that it was, in fact, the Archduke of the Stalgasin Hive. _A fitting end._ The General thought. _Squished like the bug that he is._

All of the council members had met similar deaths. Shu Mai was laying by the entrance, impaled and decapitated. Passel Argente had been bisected by the entrance to the Briefing Room. Grievous didn't bother investigating further. He knew where the rest of the council was.

However, there was something else. The walls were littered with lightsaber gashes. Someone had been dueling here.

IG-128 walked up beside him. "Sir. It appears that the facilities shields are failing. Lava breaches are imminent, followed by complete destruction of the facility."

Grievous felt his eyes widen. He bolted for the door, his Magnaguards struggling to keep up. As he reached the exterior, he noticed a silver ship, a Nubian on a platform across the facility. He made a mental note of that.

Sprinting up the ramp of the shuttle, he ordered the OOM series pilot droid to begin takeoff procedures. He watched the Kleggor Corp Mining Facility plunge into the lava below. It appeared that luck had favored them, and somehow the shield generator had compensated enough to spare the landing platforms.

His Magnaguards rushed on board. Seconds later, the ship took off, heading back towards the _Independence_. Off to the west, however, Grievous could see two blue clashes of light on a slope. One of them winked out, and the other one lowered.

**A/N  
>Yes, the author's note is at the bottom this time, just to mess with you guys. The two main POV's of this chapter do link up, with the last few paragraphs of each. I hope you enjoyed, and please review if you liked it.<strong>


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N**  
><strong>I hope you guys all had a nice weekend. I still only have one review for this story, so if you like it or have feedback, please let me know. The more reviews I ge, the faster I write. See ya.<br>****Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars. Disney does. And I'm not Disney.**

Throughout the chaos of battle, fighters were exploding, bombers were unloading their payloads, cannons were firing, and a lone Neimoidian Shuttle was scurrying back to it's hanger, barely avoiding the Imperial ARC-170s that pursued it.

Sitting inside that lone shuttle was a rather pleased General Grievous. Having just discovered that the CIS council was dead, it was natural that he was pleased. The money-mongering scum could burn in that bunker. The bunker that had nearly bankrupted them had become their tomb.

Grievous was still quite amused at that one. Viceroy Gunray had come to him on Utapau complaining about money, stating that his money financed this war, and that he hoped the Kleggor Corp Mining facility was safe. Grievous had reassured him, then sent him scurrying along with the rest of the council.

Now, it appeared that someone had broken into that bunker, slaughtered them all, and disabled the shields so they would go over the lava falls that riddled the planet's surface. Hilarious. However, there were still mysteries about this whole case.

The appearance of a J-type Nubian, for example. Usually only used by senators. And why would a senator go to _Mustafar_ of all places? A vacation? Grievous didn't think so.

Another thing as well, who had killed the council in the first place? It couldn't have been the Jedi, they had absolutely no access to the codes, besides the fact that they were all supposed to be dead. It had to be Sidious. There was something about him that made him uneasy.

Wait. What if Sidious… wasn't Sidious? Could he be an imposter? He had already considered many options in the mining facility, but maybe he should research them. Glancing at the chrono, he saw that they still had 15 minutes before they arrived back at the _Independence_. _Plenty of time_, he thought.

He got up, walking over to a computer stashed in the corner of the shuttle. While many beings would have been instantly knocked down by the constant blaster fire and maneuvering, not Grievous. His magnetized feet kept him secured to the deck of the ship.

His hands whizzing over the holographic display, he inserted a small chip he drew fom his cloak. The chip had some of the highest ranking access codes for the Re-ublic data files, and it appeared the Imperials hadn't made many improvements. The screen changed. Typing his search, he found what he was looking for. He pulled up images of various powerful Imperial figures. He then found an image of Sidious on his private recordings.

Senators, aides, Red Guards, it didn't matter. All of them came up as negative; these people were not the same. Maybe Sidious was higher up? He began searching through the Emperor's aide's data file. When that came up as negative, he looked through the files of the Emperor himself.

The data in there would shock him for a long time.

Everything in that file matched. He even played a few voice recordings to be sure.

The times Sidious had contacted him or Dooku, Palpatine had been either in a "private meeting" or off planet! The logs, the image was the same, it was incredible!

"OOM-925, begin landing procedures," he could hear IG-104 ordering the pilot. It seemed the shuttle had fared worse than anticipated, Grievous noted as he walked down the landing ramp. Most of his Vulture droid escort was destroyed, and there were scorch marks littered throughout the hull.

The General had more pressing matters at the moment, however. For example, that this new Empire was ruled by the same man who led both the Republic and CIS, and that he was now the sole surviving leader of the Confederacy.

Of course, he had an advantage on Sidious. He had never contacted Sidious about Grievous's survival. However, there was now another kill on Grievous's agenda, other than Kenobi's. Sidious was a lying, treacherous, piece of slime, and he would get what was coming to him.

_And then, his apprentice,_ Grievous thought. He might as well finish the other "Sith Lord" while he was at it. But for now, Kenobi was the more desirable target.

On the way to the bridge, Grievous said, "IG-One-one-six, find the first ship my starfighter met with. I want to know the model, who owns it, and where it was heading."

* * *

><p>Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. So repetitive. So <em>alien<em>. And yet, that's all Vader can hear. The harsh sound just continues, on and on, never ending. He doesn't even know what it is.

And the pain. It's not as great as before, but the pain still lingers. He tries to lift his arm a few centimeters, but it feels heavier than before. He tries to lift it more, but restraints block his movement.

A voice breaks through the noise. It seems familiar somehow, yet different. _"Lord Vader, Lord Vader, can you hear me?"_

He can't, at least not as he once could. The sound is artificial, trickled directly into his brain by audio sensors. "Yes," he tries to say. Again, the sound is artificial. The voice it speaks through is completely unrecognizable, deep and cold.

A thought jumps into Vader's head. "Where is Padme? Is she safe? Is she alright?"

The voice hesitates. For several seconds there is no sound except for medical droids buzzing, and the inhale and exhale of what Vader can only assume is him breathing. _"It seems, in your anger, you killed her."_ This statement instantly sends him into a panic.

"No! That's impossible! She was alive, I felt it!" Vader suddenly realizes who the voice belongs to. His panic transforms into anger, his anger into rage. Within seconds, the room is vibrating and nearby medical droids are imploding.

Breaking free of the restraints that pin him to the table, he tries to reach out, to crush the man who stands before him.

But his power is but a fraction of what it once was, and now, he can't touch him. Because when he could have gone away with Padme, when he could have avoided all of this, when he should have been thinking of _her_, all he could think about was himself.

And now, the Jedi are gone, and he can't touch the man in front of him. This will always be his greatest mistake.

Because now, he is imprisoned.

Because now, the Sith are all he has left.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N  
><strong>**Thank you guys so much for almost 900 views to this story. I never thought it would be anywhere near this popular. If you have any questions, comments, concerns, or baking recipes you'd like to share, leave them in the lovely little review section down there. Thank you guys again!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars. Wouldn't that be great, though?**

With a soft hiss, the doors to Grievous's quarters slid open. IG-104 stepped forward through the threshold, and regarded the metal cyborg sitting in front of the holo-projector before him. "Speak," Grievous gruffly commanded, and the Magnaguard complied.

"General, we have located the corvette that rendezvoused with your starfighter. It was definitely headed to the core, most likely Coruscant. Shall we follow them?"

Grievous growled. _The blasted stupidity on these things! Even the elites make these incredibly idiodic mistakes... _

"Do you really think that we can just drop out of hyperspace, go into the _capital_ of the empire that destroyed _both_ the CIS and Republic in a warship of the CIS, and come out with our information unharmed?" Grievous had now gotten up and was looming over his bodyguard, as if daring it to contradict him.

The droid simply stared, having no fear nor self-preservation programmed into it. It did, however, have enough common sense to simply not answer, knowing full well that it would likely be one of the last things that he did. And it couldn't be a very good bodyguard if it was lying in pieces on the floor.

Grievous let out a huff and turned around. "What are the least defended Imperial outposts within this sector?" he said over his shoulder.

IG-104 considered it's memory databases carefully before responding. "Atrivis VII should only have an _Acclamator __II_-class defending it," the guard said, "And the closest reinforcements are several hours away. It shouldn't be too difficult to take the planet."_  
><em>

A barely audible hiss came out of Grievous's mask as the droid said the last sentence. "I don't intend to take the planet," he said slowly, dangerously, "Now shut up before I decide to remove something!"

The droid answered in it's usual monotone, still experiencing no fear. "Yes, General. I will give the order to jump."

The doors slid closed again, leaving Grievous alone in the room. _You can't get replacements anymore_, he kept telling himself, trembling in rage and frustration. _You can't get replacements anymore_.

* * *

><p>Several hours later, Grievous was on the bridge, staring out at the stars flashing past the window in the form of long, white lines. Behind him, the bridge crew of the <em>Independence<em> was preparing for the coming battle, even if it would likely be easy. An _Acclamator II_ may be a warship, but it was one of the weakest of it's kind. Had it been one of the new _Imperial_-class Star Destroyers, Grievous would have been much more reluctant to attack.

"General, sir!" one of the Neimoidian pilots called. Two long strides brought Grievous to his shoulder.

"Yes, lieutenant?" the cyborg said, with a murderous voice. It appeared that his annoyance with IG-104 hadn't worn off, and the fact that he was talking to a Neimoidian didn't help.

The pilot shrank back into his seat, terrified. Perhaps he should have waited for one of the other junior officers to notify this terrible creature of the situation? Either way, it was too late now.

"S-sir, we are entering the-the Atrivis system, sir. Sh-should we drop out of hyperspace?"

Grievous glared daggers at him. "Yes, you incompetent fool, bring us out!"

The Neimoidian jumped in his seat, and nearly fell out of it. Gasping for air, he propped himself back up, and typed several commands into his console with shaking hands. In the window, Grievous could see the white lines retract back into points, and the Atrivis star appear in a large yellow ball several hundred thousand kilometers away.

In orbit of the star, 9 planets were visible. The first 5 were little more than volcanic wastelands, too close to the star to even form atmospheres. The outer 2 were gas giants, massive blue gas balls. However, the seventh planet was just close enough to the Atrivis star to form oceans, but far enough away that they didn't freeze over.

The planet had been settled by human colonists, who had made use of the planets many natural ores to ship off-world. But Grievous wasn't interested in the ores.

In orbit of the planet was an _Acclamator II_-class frigate. That was Grievous's target. They couldn't very well go to Coruscant in a CIS battleship; they had to do it in an Imperial one.

Grievous strode back to the very front of the bridge, leaving the terrified Neimoidian pilot behind at his station. "Status of the enemy ship?" he asked.

The droid currently stationed at sensors piped up. "The enemy ship is scrambling fighters and raising shields. They didn't see us coming."

Grievous nodded. "Comms, ensure that they can't get any signals out. I don't want an Imperial fleet jumping in behind us."

The Neimoidian stationed at communications gave a nod, and began pressing multiple buttons and turned several dials with his green fingers. The Neimoidian's calm expression to one of surprise. "Sir, the enemy vessel- it's hailing us!"

If Grievous still had eyebrows, he would have raised them. "Very well, answer their hail. In the meantime, transfer all available power to forward shields and weapons."

The comms officer tapped a few more buttons, and the holo-projector in the center of the room hummed to life. A young human male of average height appeared, the transmission distorting for a few seconds before clearing up.

"_Enemy ship, please stand down! I am Captain-_" The young human must have fought in the Clone Wars at some point, because his eyes widened in shock and fear as soon as he recognized who he was speaking to. "_What the... You're Gen-General Grievous! You're dead!_"

Grievous straightened out his ankle joints, adding half a meter to his already imposing height. "Well then, it appears you are talking to a ghost. I assure you that the ship I am standing on is very much real. Would you like some proof-?" Grievous raised a clawed hand, and the forward batteries on the _Independence_ rippled with a round of turbolaser fire.

The Imperial captain staggered as the bolts impacted, and grabbed onto something outside of the camera's range. "Now," Grievous said menacingly, "You will surrender your ship to me, and your crew will be taken prisoners of war aboard my ship. You have 30 seconds, captain."

The young man spluttered, searching for words. "I- you can't do this, no, no, no, you can't! This is my ship!"

"For now," the cyborg answered, "It will be mine either way. It's up to you whether you experience large amounts of pain during the transaction. 20 seconds."

The captain stared at Grievous incredulously. For a multitude of seconds, neither of them said a word. Finally, the right around the 10 second mark, the Imperial spat, "Go to hell, monster."

Grievous simply laughed. "I have already been to all nine Corellian hells and back, I doubt you could do any worse. Forward batteries, open fire."

* * *

><p>The <em>Acclamator<em> didn't stand a chance. After just 10 minutes of fighting the Imperials were struggling to keep their shields up against the onslaught of turbolaser fire.

The _Independence_ had suffered little more than an overheated turbolaser and the destruction of a few _Vulture_-class starfighters.

A group of CIS gunships, was charging straight for the _Acclamator_'s hangar. A few were lost to various blaster bolts and torpedos, but the majority made it through the screen of blaster fire. As the gunships landed, a dozen B2s dropped off of each. They readied their wrist blasters into firing position, and began the trek to the turbolift at the end of the hangar.

Imperial Stormtroopers began pouring out of the side doors and access points, setting up behind cover and firing on the advancing droids. If one of those Stormtroopers had been paying attention, they might have noticed the _Droch_-class boarding ship flying overhead. If they had, Grievous's plan might have failed.

But they didn't, and so the boarding craft continued on, heading straight over the hangar and smashing through the hull plating just below the bridge. And out of the hole that the boarding craft opened came eight BX-series commando droids. Two unfortunate Stormtroopers who witnessed the event were too slow to aim their rifles, and received two quick blaster bolts to the chest each.

Advancing through the few hallways that separated them from the bridge, it was apparent that the Imperials knew they were coming. But the B2s down in the hangar were doing their job, and keeping the majority of the Stormtroopers occupied.

Every so often the commandos would come across a patrol. A few quick shots from each BX-series eliminated the threat. Making quick progress, they reached the bridge within a few minutes of their initial landing.

A charge on the door took care of any resistance that may have once existed in the general vicinity. Upon entering the bridge, there were only a few Stormtroopers huddled in a corner, with a human officer standing over them. "In the name of the Galactic Empire," he said, "Stand dow-" He, along with the rest of his troops, received a few quick bolts to the face, ending the resistance on the bridge.

The droids all took up the different required stations. The BX-series at comms tapped a message to Grievous, informing him of their success.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N  
>Hello guys. First of all, I would like to apologize for not being able to release this chapter yesterday, and for it being a tad short. But I was very busy, and couldn't write at all. You forgive me, right? And second, I would like to thank you for well over <em>1200<em> views. That's right, you blew away the 1000 mark. As of this posting, I have 1241 views. That's just... wow. I'm shocked. Thank you guys so much. Now, without any further delay, Chapter 7 is waiting for you!**

**Disclaimer: Still don't own Star Wars. I sent Disney a letter, but...**

"Status," Grievous commanded, striding through the doors to the freshly captured Imperial bridge. The commando droids stood at attention as the General and a pair of his bodyguards entered the room.

One of them stepped forward, the white paint on his face-plate marking him as a captain. "Sir," he said, "Resistance on the upper half of the vessel has ceased. There are small pockets of resistance in the lower decks, but we are eliminating them presently."

Grievous nodded. Just then, a CIS _Vulture_-class starfighter flew past the transparisteel window. Coming about, it fired a pair of torpedoes at the bridge. It was now that the bridge point-defense systems came online. With laser precision, the blue laser detonated the torpedoes that would have otherwise have destroyed everything within a few dozen meters.

Grievous could feel the explosion from where he stood. As the colorful fireball expanded rapidly in space, the shock-wave rippled past, and a few of the BX-series fell down, scrabbling for holds and a way to get back up. The point-defense fired again, and the _Vulture_-class lost most of it's left wing to the beam. Spiraling away, it crashed into the ship several decks below.

Grievous growled, and turned to the BX-series captain. "Is there any particular reason you haven't informed our ships and this vessel's computer that _we_ now control it?"

The commando regarded Grievous calmly. The BX-series, while more advanced than the B1s and B2s, didn't have the advanced programming of the IG-100s. And so, it didn't have the sense IG-104 had when he misspoke. This would be his ultimate undoing. "I refrained from informing them," he said, "Because we do not yet control the ship."

Grievous roared in frustration and rage, and picked up the BX-series by the neck. Then, with one little squeeze, he crushed the vulnerable droid's neck. The commando jerked once, and hung limp in the air, his now useless limbs swaying slightly with Grievous's minute twitches. Grievous tossed the droid aside, and turned to one of the BX-series lieutenants.

"You, you are now squad leader. You are aware of your assignment, correct?" The newly promoted captain nodded. "Good. Now cease fire. And get a crew up here to clean up this mess," Grievous said, gesturing at the droid's former superior. The Captain turned and began issuing orders to his squad.

The constant stream of turbolaser fire from the _Independence_ ceased abruptly, as did that from the captured Imperial warship. The blue and red color stopped. The _Vulture_ and _Hyena_-class that were beginning to gather around the _Acclamator_ dispersed and headed back to the point in between the two capital ships to engage the Imperial starfighters, who were still alive and attempting a last ditch assault on the CIS vessel.

Half an hour later, that counter-attack had failed, and the last ARC-170 exploded, sending it's pilots tumbling out into the vacuum of space, their screams forever silent. Half an hour after that, the last resisting Stormtrooper on the captured _Acclamator II_ fell to a squad of B1s. The _Independence_ transferred over supplies and battle droids, and then the captured vessel entered the white-lined corridor of Hyperspace, leaving behind all of the carnage it had wrought, and heading off to make some more.

* * *

><p>"<em>I.S.D. Invulnerable, please submit your ID and pass codes<em>," spoke the voice of an Imperial officer over the comm. Gazing out of the bridge windows, Grievous could see the _Imperator_-class ship they were conversing with, and behind it, the massive blue and yellow city planet of Coruscant.

This was a terrible risk, heading to the capital of the empire that had completely reshaped the political map of the galaxy. Without moving his mechanical head, Grievous could see at least a dozen _Imperator_-classes outside the transparisteel window, with almost uncountable amounts of other Imperial vessels shadowing them. This was a risk, but a calculated one. If they could get the information they needed on Kenobi, they would be one step closer to finding him.

The droid at comms tapped a few buttons with it's durasteel fingers, and submitted the recently forged documents. There was silence for several seconds as the officer at the other end examined them. _If he notices it's a fake..._ Grievous thought, _We won't have much time to leave..._

Almost a minute passed. Grievous was just about to order the pilot to withdraw when the officer's voice crackled over the comm system again. "_I.S.D. Invulnerable, you are cleared for passage. Proceed._"

If Grievous's artificial lungs allowed him to sigh, he would have. "Advance," he ordered the droid in the pilot seat, and the captured Imperial ship began it's movement around the capital planet, leaving behind it a light stardrive trail, and most of the Imperial warships guarding the planet.

They weren't done yet, though. To get Kenobi's information, they had to locate where that Corellian Corvette had been. And to do that, they had to find where it had entered the system.

And so, almost an hour later, they found it. Just south of Centax-3, the ion trail they were looking for matched with the one they discovered. It had, in fact, headed to Coruscant. And so, the General ordered the _Independence_ forward, following the trail to the capital planet.

* * *

><p><em>"Greetings, my lord. And how is Your Excellency's day, may I ask?"<em>

_"Good enough, commander. What matter is it that you wish for me to see?"_

_"Commander Dence, sir. Imperial Security Bureau. And it is a matter of great import."_

_"I don't care about your name. And this matter had better be important, otherwise you'll find your career ending very prematurely."_

_"Of-of course, sir. I would never _dream_ of disturbing His Excellency without good cause."_

_"No, you wouldn't. Now, I am a very busy man, so I'd suggest talking faster. I have a meeting in ten minutes that I need to get to."_

_"Yes, sir. You see, We've been monitoring a series of strange events recently. Do you recall the planet Mustafar, my lord?"_

_"Of course I do! Now what about it!?"_

_"Well, well if Y-Your Excellency has... bad memories of the place, then perhaps I should move on to-"_

_"No! You will say what you have to say, and then leave."_

_"Of course, sir. You see, on Mustafar, there was a battle. A warship jumped out of Hyperspace and engaged with one of our _Imperators_."_

_"What's so important about that? Pirates attack ships all the time."_

_"You see, that's where it gets strange. It wasn't a standard space pirate ship. It was a fully functioning CIS battle-cruiser. _Lucrehulk_-class, to be precise."_

_"That's not possible. The CIS was destroyed nearly a month ago."_

_"Apparently not. The cruiser held it's own against our vessel for almost fifteen minutes, then jumped away for an unknown reason."_

_"Well, that can't be all you wanted to talk to me about, commander. What else is there?"_

_"Just yesterday, our patrol ship in the Atrivis system went missing. Before their comm unit cut out, they said a _Lucrehulk_ battleship had jumped into the system, and was preparing to fire."_

_"Same one as on Mustafar?"_

_"Same one. And just an hour ago, the _Invulnerable_ entered orbit of Coruscant. The _Invulnerable_ is supposed to be patrolling the Geonosis system."_

_"So you believe that this is the ship from the Atrivis system."_

_"Yes, sir."_

_"Then if you are correct, than these Confederates are on Coruscant now."_

_"Yes, sir."_

_"Thank you for informing me of this, Commander. You will find that you have a new rank to look forward to soon. In the meantime, I will look into this matter. Farewell."_

_"Goodbye, sir."_


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N  
>Hello again guys. I hope you enjoy chapter eight, and if you do, or you notice any mistakes, let me know, and I can go fix them. Once again, thanks for reading!<strong>

**Disclaimer: Disney still hasn't responded to my letter. I'm guessing it got held up in the post office.**

Without a sound, the _Lambda_-class landing shuttle descended upon the Coruscanti landing platform. Behind it and the landing platform, the mushroom shaped senate building could be seen. And behind that, one could just see the smoke still rising from the Jedi temple.

A slight hiss of escaping gas could be heard as the landing ramp slowly lowered, coming to a rest on the durasteel floor. A squad of four Stormtroopers walked down the ramp, armored feet clanking as they made contact with the metal surface.

At the other side of the platform, another pair of Stormtroopers stood at the entrance to the turbolift into the building. Glancing uncertainly at each other, they stepped forward to meet the quadruple of advancing troopers. One of them raised a hand, stopping the men who had walked down the ramp. "ID and clearance, please."

One of the Stormtroopers reached behind his back, gloved hand grasping for something.

Instead of taking out the ID and clearance codes that the trooper expected, he pulled out a small vibro-knife. Before the trooper could react, the knife plunged into his chest, straight through his plastoid armor. The other trooper raised his weapon, trying to fire at his sudden assailants.

Far too quickly for any organic being to accomplish, one of the four attacking troopers dashed forward. Before the trooper could fire, he received a punch to the face, and a kick to the gut. Then, before he knew what was happening, he was being raised in the air. Struggling against the durasteel grip that held him in place, he kicked and screamed, trying anything to break free.

Then, with one mighty heave, the Stormtrooper went tumbling off of the landing platform, vanishing from sight someways down the massive drop. In a few minutes, he would reach a _very_ messy end. The Stormtrooper who had thrown him turned around, and spoke to the one with the vibro-knife. "All resistance on the platform cleared, sir."

The troopers began walking towards the turbolift at the end of the platform. Entering it, one of the troopers pressed a series of buttons, and the lift began a slow descent.

Several minutes later, the turbolift came to a halt. As soon as the doors slid open, the four troopers stepped out into the room. The dozen or so Imperial personnel there looked up in surprise. "Hello, troopers," one of the officers said, with an extremely thick Coruscanti accent, "Did command send you? Well, you can tell them that we have that faulty plasma circuit under control."

One of the recently entered troopers nodded. Turning around, they got back into the turbolift. The officer noted that they were moving rather stiffly. What the Imperials didn't notice, however, was that one of the Stormtroopers had dropped a small disc on the floor. That disc started blinking a soft, red, light, indicating it was active. They also didn't notice that as the turbolift closed, not one of the troopers pushed any of the buttons.

Then, the disc let out a faint hiss. A few of the more observant Imperials in the room turned towards it, wondering what was happening. A light green smoke slowly filled the space. One of the troopers suddenly noticed what was happening. "Gas!" He shouted, "Helmet filters on!"

There was a series of clicking as the troopers turned on their air filters, rendering them immune to the gas's poisonous effects. The officers in the room looked on in horror, quickly realizing that their gray caps wouldn't protect them from the gas. Withing seconds, they were all lying on the ground, gasping and clutching at their throats.

By now, the gas had filled the room, making impossible to see through the green haze. The half-a-dozen Stormtroopers still standing were terrified out of their minds by whatever had attacked them. As the turbolift doors slid open, all of them jumped, and pointed their blasters in the general direction of the sound.

The four troopers who had previously left the room came out of the doors. One of the Stormtroopers, a Sergeant, squinted at them as they entered. "You there, stop!" He said, "Drop your weapons and put your hands behind your heads!"

The armored figures responded with several rounds of blaster bolts. About 5 seconds later, all that remained of the Sergeant and his men was a few charred corpses, each with several rounds of blaster fire evidenced on their armor. The four troopers dispersed, each heading for a different console. As the last of the poison gas dispersed, one of the troopers removed his helmet.

"This is BX-314 reporting in," the commando droid said, "We have the information requested."

"Good," came the rasping reply, "Return to your shuttle and prepare to dock. Well done, droid."

* * *

><p>"Sir," said the droid at tactical, "The shuttle is docking. We will transfer the target information to the bridge when the procedures are complete." Grievous nodded, showing no outward sign of the excitement he felt inside. Well, it wasn't really excitement. He couldn't have emotions. It was just a shadow of an emotion, something his extremely damaged brain did to keep him sane. But it was close enough.<p>

This would be it! He would get the information he needed, which would lead him to Kenobi! Then, he could finally destroy the Jedi for what he'd done.

A few minutes later, the console beside Grievous's chair lit up, displaying the information his commandos had stolen. Turning to it, Grievous's mechanical eyes scrolled through the giant data file in seconds.

There were massive amounts of information in there; docking reports, crew transfers, Imperial clearance codes, (Grievous stored those away, they could be useful later) all of it possibly leading to Kenobi's location.

None of it seemed relevant, except for one little tidbit of information. It appeared that a Stormtrooper guarding the senate building had noticed a pair of Jedi accompanied a Senator into the senate building. Several hours later, the Jedi recall code had been changed to a "run and hide" message. Grievous was willing to bet that one of those two Jedi was Kenobi.

"Prepare another commando team," Grievous instructed no one in particular, "Instruct them to be ready for departure in 15 minutes." The comms officer called the hangar and instructed a shuttle to be prepared. The droid at tactical ordered another commando squad be fitted with leftover Stormtrooper armor. And 15 minutes later, the squad boarded the vessel, preparing for another journey down to the planet below.

* * *

><p>"Execute!" came Commander Appo's deafening order. With that word, the squad explosives expert pressed the detonator. The back entrance to the file relay facility blasted open. Through the hole in the wall rushed a total of eighteen Stormtroopers, spreading out in the open room.<p>

Following after the 501st squads marched the tall, black-armored figure of Darth Vader. If his appearance wasn't threatening enough, the cold, mechanical breathing unnerved just about anyone unfortunate enough to hear it.

Standing in the impromptu entrance to the facility, Vader was mildly shocked at the number of bodies littering the floor. Half-a-dozen Stormtroopers lay dead, holed in various places with blaster bolts. Just as many Imperial officers were laying on the floor as well, clutching and clawing at their throats.

A trooper with a sensors backpack stood up from beside the body he was crouching by. "Dioxis gas, sir. They didn't stand a chance," he said sadly.

Appo nodded. "Is there any chance of contamination? I don't want one of us being poisoned."

One of the squad medics spoke up. "Oh, no, not with helmets on, sir. And besides, it's long gone." Vader waved over the sensors trooper, gesturing for him to check the shot Stormtroopers.

Vade stood idly by as his troopers carried on the investigation. It was quite boring, really. He couldn't exactly do anything to speed it up; the group he was with were all clones. If a clone wasn't operating at peak efficiency at any time, they would simply be sent back to whatever facility they came from, and then a new one would be transferred over to take their place.

A few more boring minutes past, and nothing of note happened. Then, the sensors trooper waved his superiors over. "Sirs," he said, "I've confirmed that these blaster marks came from an E-5 blaster rifle. Odd, because those were used almost exclusively by the battle droids of the CIS."

Appo's helmeted head turned towards Vader. "That would explain why we haven't found any other life signs in the area," he muttered. Vader slowly nodded, agreeing with his second-in-command's statement. "Sirs, could you come over here?" another trooper at one of the data consoles called.

Vader and Appo strode over, and looked over the trooper's shoulder. 'Sirs," he said, "It appears that all of the data file from the past week have been copied. Onto some sort of portable storage, if I'm correct."

Vader considered this. Who had broken into a minor Imperial facility, killed the garrison, and left? And for what? A few docking reports, it looked like. It didn't make sense. Unless...

What if they were looking for something? Perhaps a person or valuable item. There was no way to know for sure. Only the one who had done this could answer these questions.

"Squad 1, remain here and keep looking through the scene. Keep me appraised of any changes. Squad 2, with me." And the 9 Stormtroopers of squad 2 followed Vader out of the building, searching for any clues as to where those had done this had gone.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N  
>Hello again guys. I hope you don't hate me for the cliff-hangar at the end of this chapter, so just don't kill me please, alright? And no, it wouldn't be Star Wars without a 1138 reference. Please review if you enjoyed.<strong>

**Disclaimer: My letter to Disney has most definitely been lost. Does anyone have a phone number?**

TK-138 stood at the gates of the Jedi Temple, fulfilling the night shift with the rest of his squad. Squinting through his helmet, he could just make out an Imperial landing shuttle coming in his general direction.

Advancing across Coruscant's cityscape, TK-138 thought that it would simply pass overhead, going to one of the various Imperial facilities in the area. But instead, it circled the landing platform a dozen meters from where TK-138 was standing, and began to slowly float down onto the surface.

"This is TK-138," he said into his helmet microphone, "Reporting an unidentified shuttle attempting to land on the forward platform. Requesting backup." The sergeant on duty gave a word of acknowledgement, then ordered a squad to meet him at the front entrance.

The ship had now touched down, and the landing ramp was lowering to allow the unknown passengers to disembark. The sergeant stepped up beside him, also looking at the landing craft. "Why is there a bloody Lambda-class here at this hour? It's not past 0200!" He gestured for the assembled squad to follow him, and began walking down the damaged stairs.

A total of 6 Stormtroopers walked stiffly down to the platform, followed by a massive cloaked figure. What is that? TK-138 thought.

The sergeant stepped forward from the rest of the squad and held up a hand for the advancing figures to stop. "Hold it there. This is a restricted area. You better have some high-level clearance to be here, soldiers."

The two lead Stormtroopers glanced at each other, then back to the strange hooded figure. "Well, uh, sir..." the forward-most one said in a strange, mechanical, voice, "We have... a prisoner to, uh, bring in here."

Even with the helmet he wore, TK-138 could tell the sergeant was very skeptical. With a tilted head, he said, "At the Jedi Temple, an off-limits sector restricted to authorized personnel only?"

"Uh, yes, sir," The trooper spoke.

The sergeant nodded slowly, then drew his blaster from the holster behind his back. "Right, buddy, you're under arrest. Let's go."

The hooded figure let out a brief sigh. Then, reaching into the dark recesses of the cloak he wore, drew out a short, cylindrical object. And before any of the Stormtroopers could react, he thumbed a button on it. A shimmering green blade emanated from it, the smell of ozone filling the air as soon as it extended.

Then, before anyone could do anything, the figure swung his blade. The result of that swing was one headless sergeant. The head hit the floor, followed by the rest of his body. The remaining soldiers looked on in shock and horror, some looking down at the headless corpse of what had once been their commanding officer, others at the still hooded figure that had killed him.

The six Stormtroopers that had been escorting the killer now opened fire on the terrified squad, downing quite a few with the first volley. The blade swung again, green plasma removing limbs from several troopers.

TK-138 took several steps back. Terrified and panicking, one of his last rational thoughts was to use his comm. "This is TK-138 to any Imperials in the Temple District, we need assistance! We have 6 assailants in Stormtrooper armor and one cloaked with a lightsaber. Send help-"

And then the cloaked being lashed out with his deadly blade, and TK-138 felt a burning pain across his chest. Falling to his knees, his vision slowly went dark. His head hit the floor, and the last light in his world finally faded away.

* * *

><p>"This is TK-138 to any Imperials in the Temple District, we need assistance! We have 6 assailants in Stormtrooper armor and one cloaked with a lightsaber. Send help-"<p>

Vader stood, arms folded, on the shuttle headed towards the Jedi Temple. The noise from the recording faded into static as the trooper was killed, cut down by something that sounded suspiciously like a lightsaber.

"How long ago was this message sent?" Vader asked. The Stormtrooper monitoring the comms channel tapped a few buttons, probably pulling up the transmission files. "Just over 10 minutes, sir."

Vader waved his hand, and the message terminated. This meant that just 10 minutes ago these people had broken into the temple. If they hurried, it was possible he could still catch them.

Vader almost shuddered at the thought of going back to the temple. That place had many... bad memories for him, to say the least.

He must go there, kill the Jedi, prove his loyalty to his new master...

The knight stands before him, accepting his fate...

The murderous blaster fire of Commander Appo's Stormtroopers echos through the corpse-ridden halls...

Jedi younglings step back as he ignites his lightsaber, revealing his treachery...

Dueling with Master Shaak Ti, disarming and cutting her down...

No! He mustn't think of that. He had to avoid going places where his terrible memories might destroy himself and everything around him. Places like Tatooine, Mustafar, and certain locations on Coruscant would have to be avoided. The Jedi Temple was one of these locations. If he had a choice, he would have simply turned around the shuttle and headed somewhere else. Anywhere else.

But his master had said this matter required his special attention. And so he had to go. Questioning the orders of the sith lord would be suicide. Sidious would probably just kill him outright.

Vader was extremely weakened from his experience on Mustafar. Every day he had to enter a pressurized chamber, and neurotic flesh would be scrubbed from his body. Every day, routine maintenance had to be done on his robotic limbs and life-support systems. And because of this, every day he was left vulnerable.

One flick of a switch, one cut in the wrong place, the slightest shock, all could spell a very slow and painful death. Sidious, naturally, had the means to do all of these. And if he desired, Vader's existence could easily be cut short.

That didn't matter now. He must go, complete the mission, and get out of the destroyed temple as fast as possible. If not, he risked damaging the surrounding area even more than it already was.

The temple was coming into view, the spired structure coming over the horizon. Slowly it approached, the place where so much carnage had been wrought by Vader's hand.

Commander Appo approached from the rear of the shuttle. "Sir?" He asked, clearly wondering what his superior was so engrossed with. Vader snapped out of his thoughts.

"Report, Commander," he spoke. Appo immediately stood at attention, arms straight at his sides and head slightly tilted up. "Sir, we are approaching the Jedi Temple north entrance, where the intruders were first spotted." The trooper said quickly, "There have been continued reports that they are advancing through the temple, apparently headed to the archives."

Vader regarded the clone. "Are you positive this information is accurate?"

Appo nodded, "Yes, sir. The troopers were quite positive."

With a small sigh, Vader gestured to the pilots to set them down. "It had better be accurate, otherwise we'll miss them. Set us down at the platform closest to the archives."

The sun was beginning to set, the bright yellow orb becoming a half-circle cut at the horizon. The shuttle slowly descending onto one of the temple's landing pads.

The shuttle's ramp descended, and Commander Appo's squad of Stormtroopers rushed down, fanning out and creating a perimiter in the potentially hostile territory.

Vader's menacing cloaked figure marched down after them, his anger at beng back in this place barely controlled.

Scanning the area and finding no life signs other than their own, the squad sensors expert gave the all clear. The group advanced, marching in formation across the 20 meter bridge from the platform to the temple itself.

Vader gazed up at the massive entrance with barely controllable rage. On either side the doors were flanked by 10 meter high statues, memorials to Jedi long past. The right one had crumbled, probably destroyed during the 501st's assault on the temple.

The left one still stood, however, and Vader hated what he saw. It was a hooded, bearded, man, human or near-human, holding a lightsaber aloft. It pointed it almost accusingly upward at the stars that were just beginning to emerge, as if suggesting they had done some unspeakable crime. To Vader, it looked unnervingly like Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Of course, that wasn't possible. He knew they hadn't built a memorial to his former master. They hadn't built one for masters Ki-Adi Mundi, Mace Windu, or even Yoda, so why would they build one for Kenobi? They hadn't had time to do it if they did. So it was impossible that it was Kenobi.

With Vader still struggling to control his emotions, the squad entered the temple doors, if they could be called that. They were little more than piles of oddly shaped rubble.

Inside, it didn't look much better. In all of the halls they passed, there were scorch marks along the wall, in places where clones had missed their marks from the original attack. However, some were much fresher. Some within a few minutes ago.

It wasn't that hard to follow where the intruders were headed, even if they knew where they were headed. Scorch marks and dead Stormtroopers littered the path they had taken.

Vader paused. If they could get ahead of them, then maybe an ambush could be set…

"Commander Appo," Vader said, "What is the quickest route to the archives from here?" Appo stopped as well, along with the rest of the squad, and accessed a terminal on the wall.

It appeared that luck had favoured them, and the quickest route was through a side hall a few meters away. Appo downloaded the information, and led the way.

"Comms, order all remaining Stormtroopers to converge on the archives section." The comms trooper did an excellent job of sending the message out on the move, having to carry the equipment whilst sending it.

Rounding the final corner, they found that the shortcut they had taken was successful. There was no evidence of struggle. "Set up a perimeter and wait for their arrival," Vader ordered.

Stormtroopers slowly trickled in from side doors and access points, joining the original squad in the preparations. After 5 minutes, the number totaled 24.

Just then, blaster fire could be heard, along with the cries of pain from the pair of Stormtroopers standing guard outside the entrance. "Steady!" Commando Appo ordered from the defense line, stopping several eager troopers from rushing outside.

The Stormtroopers held, blasters pointed at the door, taking cover behind consoles and half-destroyed holocron shelves. An ominous clanking and creaking sound began coming from beyond the door. To Vader, it sounded oddly like footsteps. At least, slow, metal-on-metal footsteps.

The footsteps gradually grew louder, and louder, until they were almost deafening. Then, the sound stopped. The Stormtroopers tensed, more than they already had. Everyone in the room waited.

For several seconds, there was no noise, and no movement. Vader stood calmly behind the perimeter, arms folded across his chest. Appo raised a hand, readying the Stormtroopers to fire.

A green blade burst through the door, and curved upward to cut through the rest of the door. "Steady," Appo said again, hand still in the air.

The lightsaber blade completed it's loop, leaving an orange glow in the circle it had cut. There was another pause, and once again, and the only sound was Vader's breathing.

And with a loud clang of metal-on-metal, the door flung open, catching an unfortunate Stormtrooper in the head, knocking him out. And in through that gap, half-a-dozen Stormtroopers rushed in, firing with inhuman accuracy. And following those Stormtroopers came a massive figure, his body shadowed in a cloak.

Vader sidestepped a stray bolt, then reached down to grab his recently constructed lightsaber from his belt. Igniting it, he deflected another bolt that would have otherwise impacted into his armored neck.

This attracted the attention of the cloaked figure. Turning towards Vader, he drew a second lightsaber from in his cloak, and a sky-blue blade emerged from the hilt. The figure strolled through the carnage. Swatting aside a very brave Stormtrooper who attempted to stop him, the figure swung his blade at Vader.

Blocking the sideways cut, the red fire and green lightning cracked once, then shimmered together, and, for just a fraction of a second, blended together in a beautiful red-green color. That color quickly vanished as both blades moved again, in a blur of motion.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N  
>Before I give you this chapter, there are several people I would like to thank. Well, who am I kidding, you can just scroll down now and read if you'd like. But if you want to see what I have to say, then please, stick around.<strong>

**First, I would like to thank my friend 0Tricia0. She has been doing an excellent job ensuring that this story stays as error free and grammatically correct as it is. (We will be doing a collaborative fan-fiction together in the near future, so keep an eye out for that)**

**Second, I would like to thank Sgt. Rill. He has been the most frequent reviewer and an amazing supporter of this story. I salute you, sir.**

**Third, I would like to thank all of you guys out there reading this. Yup, all of you. I never dreamed that my writing would be this popular, and you have all been positive supporters and have encouraged me to continue writing. Thank you.**

**Finally, I am going to thank George Lucas for giving me something to write about. This literally wouldn't exist without his creation. He may have messed up a bit in the last few years, but I still have to give him credit.**

**If you have made it this far, thanks for reading. If not, then I can't blame you. I officially end this author's note, which is most definitely the longest one I've ever written. Enjoy!**

The roars of battle echoed through the Jedi Temple archives. Blaster bolt ricocheted, bouncing to and fro until they either impacted with a holocron stand, an unlucky trooper, or simply faded away into radiation. The noise was deafening, with the screams of Stormtroopers and the whine of the blaster bolts discharging, soaring toward their targets.

Over the sound of the carnage, Commander Appo's commands could just be heard, ordering troopers to more advantageous positions and ensuring that panicked Stormtroopers didn't break formation.

In the center of all of this, two figures could be seen. One monstrous and tall, wielding a pair of blue and green lightsabers, incredible agility enabling him to avoid his opponent's attacks, and land quite a few of his own. The opponent, a tall, (but not quite as tall as the cloaked fighter) very strong man clad in black armor, kept swinging, using long, wide, strokes.

They spun, around and around, only occasionally stopping to behead an intruder to their deadly dance. If it wasn't so lethal, it could have been considered beautiful. Swing, parry, swing, dodge. The swift, rhythmic, exercises continued. One green lightsaber reached up, claiming a stray bolt from the air at just the right angle to bring it down on the black-armored man.

With a flick of his wrist, the bolt sailed away from it's target, effortless as walking. Then, with a mighty swoop, the red lightsaber collided with the blue and green ones, causing both of the lightsaber's respective owners to stumble backwards. Both glared at each other from beneath their headgear. One leapt at the other, and the battle resumed.

* * *

><p>The hum of his lightsabers. The whine of the blasters. The screams of agony as beings fell before him and his troops. The exquisite feeling of slicing through military-grade armor as if it were wet paper. It felt so good. So <em>right<em>. And it was an eternity since Grievous had experienced these things._  
><em>

Ever since his near-death experience, Grievous felt like a fruit left uneaten, his true purpose unfulfilled. The hunger for battle was eating him alive! And now, that hunger could finally be satisfied.

He hadn't bested a worthy opponent since Coruscant, with that Togruta Jedi Master, Shaak Ti. And that had been a long time ago. The being he was fighting now was most definitely a worthy one. But this black figure before him, he was different. None of the grace or finesse that the Jedi used. No, this one was a sith.

Perhaps one of Dooku's old disciples gone rouge. It was possible, nearly all of them had at some point. But the skill and mastery of the force seemed beyond any of them, even that witch Ventress. She had been skilled, but nothing like this.

The being was strange, that was for sure. The black armor, red lightsaber, emotionless face-mask, all of it. The only thing that evidenced he might be a living being was the slow, methodical, breathing that was constantly being emitted from the triangular mouthpiece.

Whilst all of these thoughts were whirling in Grievous's mind, the battle still went on. He didn't have to think about what he was doing; his mostly-artificial brain took care of it for him. His organic bits were left to think freely, and he was putting them to good use. Analyzing attack patterns, measuring defense capabilities, compiling all this information into one, simple, flawless, attack strategy.

The figure was very powerful, his swings being able to rival Grievous's own strength. However, he was very seriously lacking in mobility. The defense he used was also flawed, though not to such a great extent. The chestplate he wore had a panel embedded into it, lights constantly blinking. That had to be something important.

Grievous lashed out with a particularly hard strike. The red blade intercepted the attack, but the strength of it caused him to stumble back. While he was still recovering, Grievous struck again. The tip of his blade just sliced through the panel, causing the lights to flicker. A loud sizzling could be heard over the blaster fire still filling the room.

The armored being let out a furious scream, the sound echoing off the walls and causing feedback loops in Grievous's audio receptors. The sith shot his right hand out, and Grievous felt himself lift into air. He hovered there for a fraction of a second, before flying backwards and slamming into a wall at a respectable fraction of a starfighter's flight speed.

Grievous fell to the ground, lightsabers rolling out of his stunned hands. Though his armor was designed to withstand the hardest impacts, it didn't mean he should do so regularly. His damaged audio receptors could barely pick out the noise of the sith's black boots advancing towards him. Slowly standing up, Grievous played one of the last cards he had left.

With his right hand, Grievous reached to his neck and undid the clasp that was keeping his identity hidden. Freed, the tattered cloak fell to the ground. Grabbing a total of four lightsabers of of his metallic waist. He split his arms, and ignited the lightsabers held in each hand. Then, with a spinning rotation on all four hands, he said, "Greetings. From your reaction, I take it you recognize me?"

The sith stood there a few meters away, staring shocked at the sight before him. His lightsaber nearly fell out of his hand. Shaking his head as soon as he realized this, the armored man said, "This is impossible. You are dead."

Grievous laughed, and began marching towards the figure, limping slightly on a bent leg. Several Stormtroopers broke off from the main conflict and were moving in to support their leader. Turning briefly to what remained of his commando squad, Grievous told them through his internal comlink, "Disengage and download the information we're here for."

He turned again, and began swinging and hacking at the 2 dozen Stormtroopers now rushing at him. It appeared they had abandoned any hope of defeating him with skill, and had turned to their numbers advantage to attempt to overwhelm him.

Unfortunately for them, he had the ability to attack, block, and parry up to 20 times a second. Each Stormtrooper could fire about 2 rounds a second and have any chance of hitting something. And the odds of them hitting anything weren't that great, even when they took their time to fire and weren't under the pressure of a certain death if they missed.

In other words, it was a massacre. White-armored limbs, heads, and bodies littered the archive floor. 2 dozen Stormtroopers were reduced by half in the span of 10 seconds.

The sith raised a black-gloved hand, ordering his troops to break their assault. A commander saw the gesture, and began shouting at his surviving men to get out of the combat zone as fast as possible. The few remaining Stormtroopers took up defensive positions a few meters away, keeping their blaster trained on Grievous.

He stood, looking at the sith standing before him. He looked so calm, betraying none of the rage that had previously empowered him to throw Grievous clear across the room. "I would love to know the identity of my opponent," Grievous said mockingly, "If you would be so kind."

The sith continued to simply stand there, and said, "I am not foolish enough to beseech my name onto you. Now, I would suggest that you leave, otherwise I will kill you. And I will have to ensure that you stay dead this time." The Stormtrooper commander in the back raised a hand, waiting for the order to fire.

Grievous scoffed. "Do you really think that _you_ can kill me? I've survived far worse." With that, Grievous carefully measured the distances and angles of his four arms. The hands on those arms slowly began to rotate. Large, glowing, cuts were left in the floor where the lightsabers made contact.

Grievous began slowly marching forward. The rotation accelerated. Going faster and faster, the individual blades vanished into whirling arcs of light. The sith took several steps back, trying to figure out how to counter this new threat. Igniting his own blade, he thrust it forward into the spinning colors, attempting to stop the movement.

He nearly lost his arm. The angle at which he stabbed caused him to fall downwards, his red lightsaber flinging itself backwards. Grievous let out a laugh of triumph, and stopped the spinning motion. Aiming his four blades downward, he thrust, attempting to remove a few vital systems.

The only thing that saved the sith was a sudden force leap, carrying him safely to a point a few meters away. With another use of the force, his lightsaber rushed at him from a small crack in the ground.

A growl emanated from Grievous's vocabulator, furious at being robbed of his kill. Placing all four of his lightsabers in a defensive posture across his chest, he walked towards the black-armored sith, waiting for him to strike.

And he did. The red blade curved downward in a loop, crashing into Grievous's blades so hard, it nearly pushed through his defense. But it didn't, and Grievous shot out a taloned foot that smashed into the sith's leg. The results were quite shocking.

On contact, it tore through the leather exterior. The light armor underneath gave very little resistance. Then, where Grievous expected to feel flesh and bone, he only felt more metal. A strong alloy that only bent a few degrees when Grievous made contact. The resounding clang echoed through the room.

Grievous's leg was alright, it, too had suffered little more than a few splintering cracks and a slight bend. However, it left him stunned and vulnerable for several seconds.

The sith took advantage of that. A red lightsaber flashed. Pieces of metal clattered onto the floor.

Grievous stared at the white-hot stump of his arm. Beside him, he could see the other half of it, a deactivated lightsaber rolling out of it's grasp. Grievous looked back up at the sith. He was still standing there, putting most of his weight on his uninjured leg.

Just as Grievous was debating whether to reenter combat or flee, the BX-series commandos reported in. "Sir, we have downloaded all target information. Returning to shuttle for exfiltration."

"Acknowledged," Grievous sent back, quite thankful for the timely message. He turned back to the sith, and said, "I apologize for leaving early, but I really must be going. Please give the Emperor my regards." He deactivated his three remaining lightsabers and sprinted to the door.

Before any of the troopers could ready their weapons, he was out of the room and halfway down the hallway. Most of the remaining Stormtroopers outside the archives didn't even see him run by. He made it out of the Temple in less than a minute. Looking ahead, he could see four out of the original six BX-series boarding the ship, meaning that the Imperials had taken a pair of them down.

As the shuttle was taking off, white-armored figures began pouring out of the temple gates. They formed a hasty firing line, and began taking pot-shots at the retreating ship. The vast majority of red bolts whizzed past the cockpit, doing no harm whatsoever. _Honestly,_ Grievous thought to himself, _They need to spend far more time on the shooting range._

The liftoff procedures ended, and the shuttle rocketed upwards through the atmosphere. By the time they reached the cloud-line, the Imperials had barely scrambled their fighters. When the ship finally had reached the _Invulnerable_, the other capital ships in orbit were still being notified of their status and location. When the _Acclamator_-II was entering hyperspace, the ships had just begun to turn towards it.

All in all, it showed that the Imperials _really_ needed a communications upgrade.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N  
>No! It's not true! Don't listen to the rumors; I'm not dead! *Insert triumphant music here* I am so very sorry that I haven't updated this story in a full week. My schoolwork decided to try and drown me. So last week, I had such good fun writing essays and taking tests, I just couldn't write anything that was non-schoolwork. However, I'm back, and I am still alive. So please stop rioting and attempting to mob me. That's right, I can <em>see<em> the pitchforks and torches from here. I can't be a very good writer if I'm dead, now can I?**

**Disclaimer: You know, how many times do I have to do this? I'm pretty sure people know that I don't own Star Wars.**

The metal doors hissed open in Darth Vader's private chamber. On the newly minted Star Destroyer _Exactor_, the communications array was one of the finest of it's kind, likely the best money could buy. And it had an incredibly long range, allowing instantaneous communication across the galaxy.

And it was a good thing it had such a long range, otherwise Vader may not have been able to contact his master, off-world visiting Korriban, informing him of the events that had just transpired. And it was imperative that he did so.

The fact that General Grievous had survived his apparent death on Utapau was very disturbing. When their lightsabers had met, Vader had felt the strength of a fully functioning, very angry, cyborg. He had read the report; the injuries the general had sustained were not easily shrugged off, and even with just a month to recover, it appeared that he was at peak efficiency.

There was also the question of why Grievous was even on Coruscant in the first place. He had obviously been looking for something in the temple archives, but Vader had absolutely no idea what it could be.

Sighing, Vader made a mental note to check the archives, and look for anything the general could have been searching for. He nearly groaned when he realized the act would take the better part of the day.

The action of his left knee kneeling on the platform in the center of the room triggered a command, and withing seconds a ghostly blue image of the Emperor rose up before Vader.

Of course, that man the image is of was so much more than the Emperor. He was Darth Sidious, Dark Lord of the Sith. He had been Palpatine of Naboo, senator turned chancellor. He had been Anakin Skywalker's closest non-Jedi friend. He had been his corrupter, the creator of this black-armored being kneeling before him.

The Emperor smiled as he saw his apprentice. Of course, some beings would refrain from calling the action as such. It was little more than the rotting, scarred tissue in his lower facial region rising slightly. This act was, needless to say, quite revolting.

"Ah, Lord Vader!" he spoke in that slow, methodical voice of his, "And how are you today? You are well, I trust." Underneath the black helmet he wore, Vader's expression changed to one of disgust. _Though I suppose I don't have much room to talk,_ he thought to himself. Most would find his many burns and massive amounts of cybernetics just as terrible as the Emperor's permanently damaged face.

Vader gave no outward sign that these thoughts were racing through his head, giving Sidious no motive to question him. Taking great care to ensure his reply was as emotionless as possible, he spoke to his dark master. "I am fine, master. However, a matter has transpired which must be brought to your immediate attention."

Sidious nodded slowly. "Very well, Lord Vader. What is it that I must know?" Vader hesitated. What if _he_ were blamed for the events that had transpired? He would probably be killed and cast aside like a child's broken toy. His life, his short, precious, life, would be over so quickly that he would have no time to fulfill himself as a Sith.

It was too late now. Palpatine was gazing at him expectantly, waiting for his response. To Vader, the look was eerily like a predator evaluating it's prey. Once again carefully measuring every syllable, he said, "There has been an infringement on Coruscant, master. It would appear that Obi-Wan Kenobi... failed in his mission to Utapau. General Grievous was spotted in the old Jedi Temple."

The skin where Sidious's eyebrows once were lifted slightly in mild shock. This, Vader knew, was a very rare occurrence. He could barely remember the last time he had seen his master surprised at anything. The fact that this had done so was most concerning.

"Are you sure, Lord Vader? Perhaps you could be mistaken?" Vader shook his armored head, signalling to Palpatine that no, he had been most accurate with his report.

The emperor sighed, the thin rasping sound coming from under his cloak. "This is very troubling, Lord Vader," he said, in a deep, threatening voice, "I don't need to tell you that Grievous could threaten our empire if he is allowed to run loose. Drop anything you were doing when you found him. Hunt that menace down, and bring me his head!"

Vader experienced a feeling of shock at his master's words. It was extremely rare for Sidious to be this angry; most times he had his usual air of cold and calculating evil surrounding him. Hastily nodding in response, he said, "Of course, my lord. At once."

The yellow, bloodshot eyes just visible behind the Sith Lord's cloak narrowed. "See to it, Lord Vader. Take care not to make the same mistake Kenobi did."

The image of those eyes stuck in Vader's mind long after the Sith's form dissolved, and the transmission faded away. They haunted him as he exited the room, the terrifying color chasing him down the hallways and into the lift, following him all the way to the bridge.

And halfway across the galaxy, on the deserted world of Korriban, Darth Sidious smiled, knowing that his little trick had completed it's job.

* * *

><p>Grievous marched onto the bridge, a pair of magnaguards flanking him out of the lift. If it were at all possible, the general would have been trembling in excitement. Ordering to the bridge crew that he was not to be disturbed, he retreated into a small side room. Drawing a small disk out of the recesses of his cloak, he inserted it into a console on the wall.<p>

The screen on the console instantly fired up. Briefly displaying a CIS symbol, it changed to show the data on file. Scrolling down through the data, he found what he was looking for.

It appeared that his previous data was correct; a pair of beings did enter the temple archives. Sensors at the time showed one unidentified, one human. They had fought their way through the hallways to the archives section from the back entrance, then changed the recall code there.

Then, the two life-forms had split up, the unidentified heading towards the mushroom-shaped Senate Building, and the human going over to 500 Republica, home of the most prestigious and influential people in the Republic. Or Empire, as it was now.

There was a chance, an almost infinitely small chance, that some gene in the unidentified being caused it's species to be unreadable to sensors. If this was true, Grievous would have had two targets to pursue, with no way to tell the difference until he layed eyes on their owner. But the chances of that being true were, again, infinitely small. And so it was more logical and desirable to go after the human target, on the basis that it was most likely Kenobi.

About to leave the room with the information he needed, something made Grievous pause. Walking back over to the console, he entered another query into the file. The mystery of the Nubian on the Mustafar landing platform still hadn't been solved. On a hunch, he searched for recent 500 Republica residents who owned such a ship.

He only got one result. Senator Padmé Amidala of Naboo. She had died a few days ago, Grievous knew, off-world somewhere in the outer rim. The report he had read on it was suspiciously vague. The question was, why had the Senator of Naboo gone to _Mustafar_? That didn't matter now, so long as he find Kenobi. And now, he might just have to go back to Coruscant to locate where Kenobi had went.

The hard part about that was, how? The Imperials had now surely been alerted to his survival, and he wouldn't be surprised if they were assembling a fleet to go after him. Going back to Coruscant now, in the same vessel, would be suicide. One scan and the fleet orbiting the planet would destroy them, likely in the span of a few seconds. No, he would have to find another way.

Perhaps they could pose as merchants? It wouldn't be too difficult; there were plenty of ships in the area that would suffice. The problem was, this ship probably wouldn't be fast enough to disable them before a message was sent to Imperial authorities. And if a message was sent out, the result wouldn't be all that different if they had simply gone to Coruscant itself.

He needed a distraction. And for a distraction, he needed more ships. For more ships, he needed a planet and shipyards. And for that, he needed droids. For droids, of course, he needed factories.

With a drawn out sigh, Grievous realized this was going to be a very long-term project.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N  
><strong>**Apologies that this chapter is up a day late. I was very busy and away from the internet most of yesterday, and so had troubles posting it.**

**I realized why they had to kill off Grievous in Episode III whilst writing this chapter. Had he stayed alive, he would simply have caused so much damage to the galaxy and the Empire that the canon timeline we know in the original trilogy would have been impossible. He is simply too large of a character. Please enjoy. May the Force be with you, always.**

**Disclaimer: I think I'm just going to throw the disclaimer into the story description. It would be much less annoying there, don't you think?**

Searching through the Imperial databanks, it didn't take Grievous too long to find what he was looking for. It appeared that there weren't too many black-armored Sith Lords in the Empire.

Darth Vader. That was the name. He was Sidious's apprentice, and someone he most definitely had to kill. If Sidious died, then Vader would simply take his place. If Vader died, Sidious would get a new apprentice. There was one solution, and it was very simple at that.

Both had to die. Within the span of a few days, if possible. The resulting power vacuum would destroy the Empire from the inside out. Of course, if Grievous's experiences with Tyranus and now Vader said anything, Sith were not easy to kill. As he had been told repeatedly in his training, he must have fear, surprise, and intimidation on his side to defeat the best of the Jedi.

He was pretty confident that applied to Sith Lords, as well.

Surprise shouldn't be much of a problem. Simply jumping down from the ceiling in front of them would suffice. Intimidation would be a little more difficult. The jumping from the ceiling tactic might work. He'd have to work on that one.

Fear... fear would be very challenging. A large part of being a Sith was not to dispel fear, as it was with the Jedi, but to become an embodiment of fear itself. So the question was, how does one scare fear?

He received no answers from the database in front of him, nor the database that was his brain.

Fear was going to be very challenging, indeed.

* * *

><p>The I.S.D. <em>Invulnerable<em> exited hyperspace, the hyperdrive shutting down and sublight drive re-initializing. It reentered orbit in the Atrivis system, lowering power levels to a minimum that would allow them to maintain orbit. For the first time in several days, Grievous laid eyes on the _Independence_, drifting in orbit a few hundred kilometers ahead of them.

For an instant, gazing at the ship through the bridge windows, he felt an odd sensation. A sense of longing, in a way. It took Grievous several seconds to identify it. Collecting memories, sifting through them, he managed to put a name onto it. Sentimentality.

He was feeling sentimental towards a _ship_! Besides the fact that he shouldn't be able to feel most emotions, he couldn't believe he was feeling for a collection of bulkheads and power conduits. For in the end, that's all the _Independence_ added up to. It was a useful ship, but hardly deserving of his special attention. He made a mental note to get A4-D to check his head out soon.

Shaking his head, he turned to the droid at comms. "Prepare to send a message down to Atrivis VII's leaders, whatever government they may have. Audio only." The droid's thin, metal head bobbed once, and the message was sent.

As Grievous had previously noted, Atrivis VII exported large amounts of valuable ores and minerals. However, unlike before, those exports would provide some use for him. He needed a fleet, one large enough to survive and take on the Empire. The _Independence_ was a good ship, and the _Invulnerable_ had served him well, but he needed more than that. Now that the Empire knew of his survival, there would most likely be many vessels after him. And the two ships he had couldn't hold up to that.

It would take some time, but he would be able to build up a fleet. The ores that Atrivis VII had would be useful in ship construction, and give him a starting point to build from. Perhaps, in time, he would be able to provide a very credible threat to the Empire's stability. Their hold on many outer rim worlds was still very weak; he could probably break their grasps on many with a few well placed strikes.

Once the fleet was finished, he would be able to challenge them at the core, where their hold was strongest. He could see it now, him leading vast armies through Coruscant's cityscape, killing that piece of slime who called himself Emperor, and ending his reign. The right way, none of that sneaking around and capturing their leader when they could have dealt a crippling blow. And then, with the galaxy under his control, he could find Kenobi.

But he was getting way ahead of himself here. It would be a long time, probably many years before he had the strength to truly attack the Empire. He needed ships, and armies, and good commanders to lead them. And this insignificant little green ball below him would be the first step to that ultimate goal.

The droid at comms had finished opening the channel, and gave a nod to Grievous to indicate that his transmission was successful. "Leaders of Atrivis VII," the General said, "You may be wondering who you are speaking to, and why this transmission is being sent from an Imperial ship. Unfortunately, I cannot inform you of this, as it would be a breach in security.

"However, rest assured that no harm will come to you... so long as you surrender and lay down your arms. Any attempt to resist will result in _very_ unpleasant consequences. I await your reply." With a wave of his hand, he gestured to the droid to end the message. With a soft click, the recording ended. The computers then did their jobs, packaging up the signal into an acceptable bandwidth, and sending it down to the planet below.

Within minutes, the reply message was received. It, too, was audio only, but the Coruscanti accent made it clear he was talking to an imperial officer, perhaps the governor of the system.

"Unidentified speaker, this is Atrivis VII. I am requesting live communication. We can discuss things more easily that way." Grievous narrowed his eyes. There was no way that an Imperial would give up that easily. This had to be a trick of some sort. Reaching into his cloak, he pulled out a small chip and handed it to the droid at tactical. That chip contained Imperial access codes retrieved during the first raid on Coruscant, carried out by his BX-series commandos.

"Use these to deactivate their defensive shields and turbolaser batteries. Make it look like they're coming from the regional governer." The droid nodded, and inserted the chip into its console. Briefly, Grievous considered why he was trusting a B1 with such responsibility. Shaking the feeling off, he turned once again to the comms officer. "Initialize audio only live communication," he instructed.

The speaker's voice once again came over the comm line. "Greetings, sir. Now, the people of Atrivis VII would like to negotiate surrender terms. Go right ahead, Prime Minister." A new voice could now be heard. It was nervously shaky, obviously terrified of something, most likely the unidentified ship in orbit.

"H-hello, sir. I-I would like to negotiate my... I mean, o-our terms. F-for surrender." The tactical officer signaled to Grievous, indicating his success. Inaudibly, Grievous chuckled. The fools down on the planet were completely defenseless, and they didn't even know it. He could destroy them at any time he wished, be it with a swift volley of blaster fire or a well placed wave of torpedoes.

In fact, he almost gave the order for his turbolaser batteries to fire, but realized the disappointing truth that he needed the leaders of the planet alive to keep the common folk from rioting, something his weakened army couldn't handle.

"Of course, Prime Minister," Grievous spoke, "We would be happy to discuss terms. Now, I believe that complete-" Grievous paused as his enhanced hearing picked up a sound. Through the communication unit, he could hear a slight whirring noise. It repeated, sounding something like a CIS flak gun being reloaded.

And also through the transmission, he could hear what sounded like angry shouting. Most beings wouldn't be able to pick up the faint sounds. If Grievous could have grinned, he would have.

"It appears, minister, that your defense turrets aren't working. I wonder how that could have happened? And at such an inconvenient time, too. It looks like you will have to agree to our terms. Surrender now, Minister, or I will kill you, the Imperial governor, and a minimum of 100 colonists. Do you really want that blood on your hands?"

Down on the planet below, the leading council, terrified beyond relief, weighed their options. The loss of those colonists would be crippling. 100 of them amounted to 5% of their civilian population, and the deaths of the Prime Minister and Imperial governor would destroy their political system. And if they refused after the killings, the ship in orbit would probably just kill more of them.

Comparing that to an occupation by an unknown force, that had a chance of being merciful, or at least keeping them alive there was very little contest. Unanimously, they agreed.

Taking a deep breath, the Prime Minister muttered reluctantly into the comm unit, "We accept."


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N  
><strong>**Greetings to all! This chapter is a tad short, but please forgive me. As you know, I have been quite busy lately. I think I should inform you that, because of Thanksgiving, I will not be updating this story for a little bit. I really need to take a breather. So instead of the usual 3 day interval, I will be updating on the first of December. Go enjoy Thanksgiving with your families, guys. Thanks for all of the support I got for the last chapter!  
>Oh, and Sage of wind Dragons, your review has definitely been taken into account.<strong>

**Disclaimer: This is the last in-story disclaimer I am doing. It's going into the description, now. I do not own Star Wars.**

Atrivis VII was a rather nice world, filled with grasslands and mountain ranges that created a sense of majestic beauty. Most of the northern hemisphere was covered in ocean, and so the majority of the human colonists resided in the south, living in simple, easily constructed dwellings.

Of course, the planet's beauty was surpassed, in the opinions of many, by the massive amounts of natural ores contained in veins under the mountains. The minerals there were quite valuable, used in many forms of starship construction. This is where the greater portion of the population found employment, going into the mines daily to extract the valuable materials.

And so, naturally, these ores had attracted the attention of other powers. Originally a Republic world, it had seceded into the CIS, along with many other outer rim systems. Then, upon the end of the Clone Wars, was one of the first former CIS planets occupied by the fledgling Empire.

Most of the population didn't care who they were controlled by, so long as they weren't too oppressive. Those larger decisions were made by the ruling council, a select group who resided within the capital city, some thousand kilometers away from the planet's largest mountain range.

And so, as CIS landing ships descended from the sky, lowering towards the strategic locations across the planet, most of the populace looked up with little more than detached interest. The ships unloaded battalions of droids at their landing zones, B1s, B2s, Destroyer Droids, and various tanks ensuring that none of the colonists tried to resist their new overlords.

In the capital city, Grievous arrived the prearranged meeting point, accompanied by a cadre of bodyguards. Town Central, as the locals called it, was simply a large square, with various plants and pathways spread throughout the hundred square meter space. The Prime Minister, ruling council, and several other important figures waited by the fountain in the center.

Upon reaching a point around 5 meters from the group, Grievous held up a hand, signalling for his escort to halt. He kept moving, however, until he was only a couple meters away from the obviously nervous Prime Minister.

"You are the one who is going to occupy us, then?" The minister said, quite scared of the monstrosity in front of him. Grievous nodded, feeling that no further acknowledgement was necessary.

The Prime Minister sighed. "And I suppose that you are going to produce a document of some kind that will undoubtedly legalize this invasion with the Empire?" A green-gray clad Imperial Officer in the party stiffened slightly as he heard those words.

Grievous scoffed at the statement. "I do not care whether this invasion is _legal_ or not. It has happened, legally or illegally. No amount of political squabble can change that." Turning to the officer, he said, "You are the system Governor, I presume?"

The officer nodded warily. "Yes. What is it to you, mechanical filth?" He said, knowing all too well what was likely about to occur.

A low growl emanated from Grievous's vocabulator. "Watch your tongue, Governor, or I might have to remove it." Turning to his bodyguards, he said, "Lock up all of the Imperial personnel in one of the city prisons. If you can't find any, send them into the mines."

The mines, while far from as deadly as some of the more famous ones such the Kessel asteroids, were still inhospitable. One tended to avoid them if they were claustrophobic or disliked cave-ins, which happened frequently in some of the poorly constructed tunnels. An ideal place to put someone if you wanted to get rid of them for awhile.

IG-116 and IG-128 led away a quartet of protesting officers, heading towards the Town Central exit. The Prime Minister glanced nervously after them. "I trust the we won't receive the same treatment?"

Grievous nodded. "So long as you keep the populace happy. Lower taxes, execute troublemakers, I don't care. Just ensure that there are no rebellions and the people are agreeable with our presence."

The minister bowed slightly, indicating his obedience. "Of course. If I may have your permission...?"

Waving his metallic hand, Grievous gestured for them to leave. The Prime Minister and his remaining entourage left the premises, probably heading to the Capitol Building where they resided.

IG-104 stepped forward. "Sir," He said, "Sensors have located the old battle droid factories from the Clone Wars. They are on a small island a few hundred kilometers from here. We can reactivate them within a few hours, and the materials required are easily accessible. Would you like to revive them?"

Grievous turned to face the droid. "Yes, reactivate the factories," He said, "Prioritize B2 and Destroyer Droid production. Don't bother with the worthless B1s. Pointless things..."

IG-138, who happened to have a mobile comms unit, relayed the message to the _Independence_ in orbit, telling them to send down repair crews and construction parts for the factories.

All in all, the whole operation was going according to plan. The planet had surrendered, the colonists didn't much care who their new overlords were, and all without a hitch. In fact, if the Jedi were still around, Grievous could swear that one would jump out of nowhere and ruin it all, just to infuriate him.

That was how it seemed to happen during the Clone Wars, after all.

* * *

><p>Darth Vader was angry. No, angry was an understatement. A very serious understatement. He was furious.<p>

Furious with Captain Wilcox for his blasted, overbearing, better-than-thou attitude. Furious with Captain Atzir for his complete lack of respect. Furious with Captain Tzenketh for his constant political maneuvering.

But most of all, he was furious with Darth Sidious for giving him explicit orders not to kill them.

Collectively, the group had all of the traits of a shining Imperial Officer. Arrogant, self-righteous, kiss-ups, the lot of them. He would be well within his right mind to throw them out an airlock. Or stab them. He wasn't too particular on that point.

His flagship, the _Exactor_, along with a small fleet, comprising of the _Forerunner_, _Wendigo_, and _Avail_, respectively, had been assigned to hunt down and destroy General Grievous at all costs. Unfortunately, it appeared that when he had fled Coruscant, he hadn't headed straight to his destination. He had completed a series of micro-jumps, heading from one point to another, before going to his true destination.

That meant that each time they dropped out of hyperspace after following his trail, they had to search for the other jump point, which unerringly was in some obscure and hard to get to place. They had been at it for several days now, and the complete process was expected to take up to a week.

Even more time to spend with those little Imperial rays of sunshine. Vader still couldn't figure out why he couldn't have been paired with some more agreeable officers for this assignment. Perhaps Moff Tarkin. They had gotten off to a good start during the Kashyyyk mission, and Vader thought the two of them could get a good working relationship going.

But no, he had to spend over a week with those people, who, Vader suspected, at least, were the most annoying officers in the Empire. Perhaps he could make it look like an accident...

No. Sidious would see through that facade in an instant. Vader might as well kill them outright. He had to admit, the thought held a certain appeal.

The fleet was currently searching through an empty parsec of space, looking for the tell-tale signs that a ship gave off when it was in sub-light speed. Once they were found, it would be easy enough to calculate the trajectory and head to the next jump point. But again, it took around 4-5 hours to locate the signal for each jump. The time was, in Vader's opinion, completely wasted.

He would much rather be hunting down Jedi survivors, making sure that their crushed order could never rise from the ashes. It was one of the few things that still brought him pleasure. The joy of destroying the enemy he had once thought of as a friend. They were traitors, all of them.

Most of all, Kenobi. His former master had destroyed him, ruining the young Sith before he had a chance to unleash his full potential. How he longed to kill that slime, wipe the constant smirk off of his face. He'd show him. He'd show everyone.

The Chosen One can never be truly defeated.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N  
>Hello, readers. I have a quick announcement to make. In the coming chapters of this story, I am going to need a <em>lot<em> of starship names. And let's be honest, I can only come up with so many. So I have a good solution. In each of your reviews, attach 2-3 decent starship names at the bottom. No I.S.D. _Sparkly Glitter_ for an Imperial Star Destroyer, OK? I'll take the names from the reviews as I go, and attach them onto ships. It's a win-win! I have to spend less time coming up with good names, and you get to leave your own little mark on the Imperial Navy. So get those names rolling in! Happy reading!**

The day after Grievous's occupation of Atrivis VII, the planet was completely subjugated. Not one revolt had risen up, nothing had gone wrong, and most importantly, no Imperial ships had arrived in orbit.

While the droid factories were operational, and producing droids in a near constant stream, Grievous's fleet was severely lacking. He needed ships, desperately. Anything with a hyperdrive and turbolasers would do. He could worry about upgrading to military-grade starships later. Right now, he would be willing to accept just about everything.

But how would he get ships? Even moderately sized classes like the _Munificent_ took the better part of a year to build. It was up to two years for _Providence_ and _Luckrehulks_.

Maybe he could hire pirates? With exporting the excess mining materials from the Atrivis system, he would have enough credits to hire them. But pirate ships would be temporary; there was no way he could sustain a large fleet of them for more than a few months. They would have to be supplementary to his primary fleet.

Captured Imperial ships, perhaps? That could work. If he could figure out how to disable, board, and seize the ships much more effectively than his current strategy, it would be a viable option. He would need to remind himself to get some engineers working on it.

With some luck, there was a chance he could find some only mildly damaged ships floating through space. With some more luck, they would be warships, that could be boarded, captured, and repaired in a matter of hours. But, unfortunately, the odds of that were stacked against him. The Empire would hardly leave it's ships floating around in space for anyone to grab.

It appeared that he would have to capture Imperial starships. But how would he do that? Most Imperial ships were heavily armed, armored, and manned. All it took was one small mistake, and he would be out of business. Permanently.

Imperial shipyards had partially constructed ships. If he seized ones in the later stages of construction, he could complete them in a matter of days. But again, most shipyards had ships defending them. He had two ships... if he used one to lure away the fleet, he could grab a handful of ships with minimal resistance.

It could work. But it was an awful risk. If he didn't attempt it, it was only a matter of time before the Empire hunted him down. He could keep them guessing, not knowing where he would strike next. And after each attack, his numbers would grow. Yes, this was a viable strategy.

A quick hack into the Imperial systems told him all he needed to know. Immediately dismissing major shipyards like Kuat and Rendili, he sifted through the minor construction facilities, looking for ones with high production but low defense.

There weren't too many. Never let it be said that the Empire doesn't guard it's assets. Perhaps Bacrana? No, the defense there was far too strong. Ihopek looked promising. There was a shipment of _Victory_-classes scheduled to be completed next week. But the planet had a massive gravity well, formed by it's close proximity to the star it orbited. There was no way they could escape in time.

Nearly all of the available planets were discredited as options by factors such as these. Be it the defense was to strong, they simply didn't produce enough, or natural factors that couldn't be avoided. The list quickly dwindled.

One planet caught his eye. The first planet in the Abraxas system, a hot, mountainous world called Radix. Imperial presence there was light, but the orbital construction facilities had a very high production rate. And the junk that orbited the planet would provide excellent cover from Imperial scans.

He had found his target. In a few days time, it seemed the I.S.D. _Rati_ would be docking for routine repair and crew shore leave. That would be the perfect time to strike. If timed right, he could leave the system with an _Imperial_-class Star Destroyer in tow. That would definitely be considered a victory.

Grievous did some quick mental calculations. He had the droid factories on Atrivis VII pumping out B2s and Destroyer Droids at maximum output. That gave him about 500 droids in total per day. If he wanted to catch the _Rati_, he needed to leave within a week. That gave him, at most, 3,500 droids, plus the 350,000 already stored in the _Independence_. The crew compliment of an Imperial Star Destroyer was usually around 47,000. While on shore leave, it would be expected that about quarter of them would be on the planet.

So he had quite a comfortable margin. If the numbers were correct, he had just over a 10 to 1 advantage. More than enough for his battle droids. With any luck, the operation would be over before the planetary defenses knew what was going on.

Unfortunately, however, if there was one thing that Grievous had learned during the Clone Wars, it was that if something can go wrong, it will. And there was no guarantee that the garrison would chase after his other ship. It was imperative that they did so. The _Independence_ couldn't hold out against a planetary defense force for very long.

But there were other matters to attend to as well. Other systems in the Atrivis sector were being subjugated by the Empire. Before long, a fleet would jump out of hyperspace and destroy the progress Grievous had made, most likely along with Grievous himself. He needed a way to protect himself, and subtly take control of the area at the same time. He would need to think on that.

After all, it wouldn't do to have an Imperial fleet enter orbit.

* * *

><p>Darth Vader's boots echoed down the near-empty hallway. It was an eery sound, and combined with his deep, slow breathing, was enough to put any Stormtrooper on edge.<p>

And at the end of the hallway, the two Stormtroopers flanking the door were clearly nervous. It was only natural, of course. Somehow, they could feel, almost _sense_ the anger and frustration radiating off of the approaching Sith Lord. So the pair of them hastily stepped to the side as their superior swept through the entrance, not even bothering to salute as protocol normally dictated.

They both let out a small sigh of relief that the terrifying black-armored figure had apparently taken no notice of them.

The two guards had no way of knowing, but the reason for the Sith's anger was directly behind that door.

* * *

><p>Three gray-clad Imperial Officers looked up from the holograph they were intently studying at the mechanical sound of the door swishing open. Vader could tell, from where he was standing, that they were startled at his sudden entrance. They all looked at him for a few seconds, worried about... something. You could never tell with these people.<p>

Captain Atzir was the first to regain his bearings. He smiled slightly, and said, "Ah, hello, Vader. You're nearly 10 minutes late, what kept you?"

A low growl came from Vader's triangular mouth grill. He hadn't failed to notice the lack of title and respect in the officer's words towards a superior. In fact, far from it, he had been expecting them. But that didn't make it any better. If only he could draw his saber, slice through his insolent little...

"I am a very busy man, Captain," Vader said through gritted teeth, "You would do well to remember that." He felt a sense of satisfaction as a cloud of fear covered Atzir's eyes, if only for half a second.

Wilcox stepped forward. "Of course you are," he said, not noticing his companion's reaction. "But I'm sure people like us who are in the field far more frequently are busier. And we have more hands-on experience, as well."

Don't think about it. Think of power. Think of anger. Think of hate. Think of anything other than slowly, painfully, killing these miscreants...

It was Captain Tzenketh who spoke next. "We have found information that should be of some use. Would you like to see it, sir? I'm sure you could make it worth our while." Vader sighed. The man should have been a politician. At least then he would have been with people just as annoying as him.

"Captain, I am not going to reward you for information I will find out whether you inform me or not. Now tell me. What have you found?" Tzenketh shrugged, and began mumbling to the floor.

Vader looked at the other two captains. Atzir still looked nervous, and could hardly meet his gaze. Captain Wilcox appeared more forthcoming. "Lord Vader, we have been able to find where Grievous is headed. It appears to be in the Generis system. I'd like to see your fancy technicians do that." He added, with a smug note in his voice.

Behind his helmet, Vader raised an eyebrow. Privately, he could now see why these men were given, and held, high rank in the Empire. Though that didn't mean he had to like them.

His sensors officer had told him that finding the end destination of all those blasted micro-jumps would be impossible, at least without going to each individual location. Obviously, he would be having words with him later.

Generis, the system had 9 planets. One was inhabitable. That made the job of finding Grievous much easier. It was a decent number of sectors away, but not too far. Within two weeks, they could enter orbit. A base delta zero should take care of any resistance.

Many officers would have issues on a moral basis about razing a planet with a population of over 3 million. But to a Sith, those 3 million, they were inferior. They were worthless. They barely qualified as life-forms. And the Imperials hardly cared, in fact, Vader suspected they secretly enjoyed it. So no protests were raised, and no arguments were started when Vader instructed the captains to prepare for the coming bombing. They where being obedient for a change. He was confident none of them would rebel anytime soon.

At least, they had better not. Lest they face the wrath of the Sith.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N  
>Thanks to all of you guys for so many amazing starship names last chapter, and also for setting a new record in reviews. I got 6 of them last chapter, and I just want to thank you guys so much for the support in this story.<strong>

**On a more in-universe note, I have two things I would like to say. First, yes, I will have a chapter or two featuring the Jedi soon. They have most definitely had an easier time than in canon.**

**And two, I was poking around on Wookieepedia a few days ago, looking around at the galaxy map, trying to find a certain planet, when I stumbled across this little fact: The first Death Star actually spent two years in the Atrivis Sector under construction. That means that the Death Star is being built just a few hours away from Atrivis VII. Who knew? It'll be an interesting plot point, that's for sure.**

Captain Ferris relaxed slightly in his chair, sighing in content. Having just returned from shore leave, he was naturally relaxed. The hot air of Radix had done a very good job of relaxing his constantly tense muscles. Even now, an hour after he had left the surface, it still felt like bliss.

Through the intercom on the wall, the voice of the comms officer on duty flooded into the room. "Captain Ferris, report to the bridge." A low groan escaped from the captain's lips. It was so comfortable here... he could just doze off and sleep...

No. The bridge wouldn't have contacted unless it was important. Or unless there was a coup of some kind. That kind of thing happened far too often on Imperial ships such as these. Power-hungry officers would arrange to murder the ship's captain, then grab power and take control of the vessel. The captains, naturally, became paranoid of such things. And the officers would have to try harder to seize control, and the loop would continue, on and on. Just how the Emperor wanted his battleships controlled.

Stepping outside of his quarters, he gestured for the two Stormtroopers on guard duty to accompany him. Just as a precaution, in case someone decided this would be an opportune time to get a promotion.

The three of them entered a turbo-lift, Ferris keying in the codes that would take them to the bridge. It was a prolonged and boring ride, the lift taking several minutes to rise up the long command tower. Eventually, the lift door opened, revealing the usual dull scenery of an Imperial bridge. The pair of Stormtroopers exited the space first, marching into the room and taking up positions flanking the entrance.

Satisfied that there would be no assassination attempts today, Ferris left the lift as well, walking down the long path to the foremost point of the command tower. The bridge crew stood at attention as the captain walked by. "Report!" He barked.

It was the senior sensors officer who spoke. "Sir," he said, "Long-range sensors have detected an energy signature. It's an _Acclamator_-class, sir. Heading straight into this system."

Ferris shrugged. "I fail to see why that constitutes rousing me from my quarters at... what time is it? 0230? Well, I fail to see why that constitutes rousing me from my quarters at 0230, lieutenant." The sensors officer, however, was unfazed.

"Sir, the signature matches that of the ship that infiltrated Coruscant last week." Ferris's eyebrows aimed for his hairline. What the devil was that ship doing here? Coruscant was a hundred parsecs away! And why would it come here, of all places?

The sensors officer spoke up again. "The ship is turning about, sir. Heading for the sector border." Ferris's experienced tactical brain began processing information. Whoever captured or destroyed that ship would gain favor with the Grand Moffs. Perhaps, if they were lucky, the Emperor himself. But the _Rati_ wasn't up for a fight at the moment, with a large portion of the crew on shore leave, relaxing down on the planet.

He almost instantly came up with a solution. He could get some of the other ships in the area take out the _Acclamator_, then kill the senior staff of those vessels, and take credit for himself. Yes, that would work. Nice and simple. And make it look like an accident.

This kind of thinking came naturally to all Imperial officers. The dirty political maneuvering that they so often remorselessly employed was sought for when the Empire had recruited them. It was instinct for them. They could betray their best friend without a second thought if it got them more power, more influence. This was how they were, and nothing could really change that.

Ferris turned to another member of the bridge crew. "What other Imperial ships are in range? Ones that can catch that _Acclamator_."

The crewman tapped briefly at his console. Pulling up fleet deployments, he said, "The _Vigilance_ and _Pursuer_ can be on their way in a few minutes, sir. We might be able to get the _Diligence_ out in time, as well."

With a quick nod, Ferris turned to the comms officer. "Send them all. Tell them that..." He paused, searching for a suitable name to drop. "Tell them that Darth Vader wants that ship destroyed, and will reward whoever does so handsomely." Though not many officers knew much about Vader, most knew that he was not a man to be crossed, and that he was very close to the Emperor.

Making record time, two flashes of light that could only be the _Vigilance_ and _Pursuer_ vanished into hyperspace, leaving the system in under a minute. The _Diligence_ soon followed. Quite proud of how he had handled the situation, he settled into a comfortable stance by the window, and ordered one of the crewmen to bring him a cup of caf.

About 5 minutes afterwards, the man returned, holding a steaming cup of caf in one hand and a container of the captain's beloved sugar in the other. Ferris scooped several generous helpings into the steaming cup, and began stirring the substance in with one of the straws provided.

Halfway through this ritual, a bright flash of light rushed through the windows, followed by a violent shaking, leaving many of the bridge crew stunned and half-blinded. A young security ensign was on the unfortunate receiving end of an exploding console. The man went down in a shower of sparks, clawing at burns on his face and neck.

Clutching desperately at his cup, Ferris braced himself against the transparisteel window with his free hand. "What the blazes was that?!" he screamed at the bridge crew, who were just starting to regain their bearings.

One officer managed to make it back over to the sensors console. His already pale face lost any color that may have remained as he looked at the short-range sensors. "S-sir! There's a _Lucrehulk_ battleship emerging from Radix's rings!"

Ferris nearly dropped his cup of caf when he heard the word _Lucrehulk_. The ship had apparently taken refuge in the rings, where special materials would have hidden it from sensors. The vibration must have been the massive ship's opening volley. Which meant that another one would soon be making contact...

As if on cue, the same half-blinding light and sickening vibration struck the ship. More consoles exploded, plasma raining down on their unlucky operators. Ferris thought he heard the ominous power-down sequence of the shield generators behind all of the noise and screaming. That was a very bad sign. Well, he had to do something, didn't he? "Shields up!" He roared.

The man at tactical frantically shook his head. "Negative, sir! That last volley took out the shield generators." Ferris's blood ran cold. Without shields, and against a ship of the size and armament of a _Lucrehulk_, they were as good as dead. He considered sending out a distress signal, but quickly remembered that the comms array was closely hooked in with the shield grid. Along with half-a-dozen other systems. Ferris silently cursed the _Imperial_-class designers for that major flaw.

For several more minutes, the merciless barrage continued. A few of the engineers managed to reroute some auxiliary power to the turbolaser batteries. Though that meager defense helped, it was nowhere near enough to ward off the determined vessel. Fires were springing up all over the _Rati_'s hull, and one by one, systems were shutting down.

The only hope they really had for survival was that the other ships he had sent ahead to destroy the _Acclamator_. They might just be able to return in time to save the _Rati_ from destruction, or whatever ultimate fate awaited them.

For what seemed like the hundredth time that day, a cry of alarm came from one of the console operators. Ferris whipped around, walking carefully over to see what had caused the man's fear.

The operator pointed at the console, gesturing at the screen. When Ferris saw what was displayed there, he instantly understood why the crewman was speechless.

_Droch_-class boarding crafts, at least a thousand of them, forming a massive black cloud that nearly blocked out the sunlight reflected off of the Radixian rings.

_Ah_, was all he could think. _That is going to be a problem._

* * *

><p>The plan was going perfectly. The <em>Invulnerable <em>had successfully lured away the rest of the defense force, leaving the _Rati_ alone in orbit. And very susceptible to attack.

The _Independence_ was by no means a small ship, and in most cases would have been detected instantly by even the weakest sensor arrays. But they had exited hyperspace behind the junk-filled rings that orbited Radix. Many of the materials in them had broken down into a substance that blocked sensors. And that meant that they were as good as invisible, to everything except the naked eye.

The first few opening volleys had been devastating, disabling shields, comms arrays, and all sorts of other important systems. That made the job of capturing the behemoth much easier, but also increased the time it would take to get the ship all the way up to 100% effectiveness. Grievous wanted the ship as intact as possible. So now, exactly 1,035 _Droch_-class boarding ships were racing towards the command spire of the _Rati_.

The 6,210 droids contained within the rapidly approaching ships would be more than enough to take the bridge and surrounding area. For what Grievous had in mind, they had to get to the life-support systems. Once that was accomplished, the ship would be theirs.

Grievous was sitting in one of the leading attack pods. It was a somewhat tight fit, with the large bodies of him and his six guards hard pressed to squeeze into the tight space. But they managed, and he would be glad to get out of the cramped area and into the Imperial starship.

The star destroyer opened fire, firing barrage after barrage at the boarding craft. The weakened turbolaser batteries were horribly inaccurate and underpowered, but nonetheless a select few of the attack ships disintegrated under the hail of fire. Grievous counted around ten of the thousand-odd boarding craft spiraling away into the infinite blackness of space.

As the group drew closer to the massive vessel, their rate of causalities grew higher. The more the distance between them shrunk, the more accurate the Imperial turbolaser bolts became, and the easier it was to use the numerous point-defense systems mounted on the ship's hull. More ships exploded in bright flashes of light.

Then, finally, the boarding craft had impact. They swarmed around the command tower, landing on any available location around the bridge. The Stormtroopers in the general vicinity of the landing were undoubtedly experiencing a very nasty surprise.

Grievous's boarding craft impacted just a few meters beside the original goal, opening up and giving them a clear way into the Imperial ship. Reaching into his cloak and grabbing a pair of lightsabers, he ignited them. The two sky-blue blades shimmered in the Imperial lighting.

Waiting just enough time to put the Stormtroopers who were undoubtedly waiting outside on edge, he gestured towards the opening, and gave his guards one command.

"Forward."

* * *

><p>Two squadrons of Stormtroopers had taken up positions outside, using supply crates and wall corners as cover. Fully expecting B1s, B2s, or perhaps Commando Droids to emerge from the ship, they were taken completely by surprise when six IG-100 Magnaguards rushed out at them, followed closely by a very angry cyborg they identified as General Grievous.<p>

The plastoid armor that all Stormtroopers wore was effective in battle, protecting them from explosive shrapnel and, on occasion, a glancing blaster bolt. The armor was not, however, designed to withstand the full force of a lightsaber swing, nor the voltage of an electrostaff. And so, the two squads were reduced to nothing more than gruesome bodies on the floor within 30 seconds of the boarding ship's original hull puncture.

They advanced through the ship, killing Stormtroopers as they went, occasionally meeting up with other boarding parties. They made rapid progress, and Grievous reached life-support control with all of his original escort plus around 30 B2 super battle droids.

With one mighty kick, Grievous sent the door to the room flying inwards. Cries of shock and fear escaped the Imperials inside. Grievous rushed in, followed by the droids behind him.

A pair of Stormtroopers stood ready, flanking the door. Grievous's robotic arms flashed out, one lightsaber beheading each of them before they had the chance to pull their triggers. The Magnaguards followed their leader in, and moved to intercept a group of troopers trying to form up on the opposite side of the room. Needless to say, the formation action was unsuccessful after that interference.

The first few B2s entered next, opening fire on the Imperial Officers charged with maintaining life-support. A few seconds later, the jobs had opened up for vacancies.

The room was fully pacified almost immediately, leaving no Imperials alive and losing only 3 B2s to the cross-fire. IG-104 stepped up to report, a light scorch mark where he had failed to dodge out of the way of some Imperial blaster bolt quickly enough. "Sir," the droid said, "Life-support is under our control. Your orders?"

Grievous regarded him. "The bridge cannot override any actions we take from up there, correct?" The droid shook his head. "No, sir, in fact, we have received an update from squad 9. They have captured the bridge, and the crew up there is being held hostage."

Impassively, Grievous looked at the droid. "Instruct all battle droids except for those on the bridge to disengage and fall back to their landing zones, then vent the atmosphere of this vessel. Everywhere. Open as many airlocks as you can manage, as well."

IG-104 broadcasted the message to all of their combat units. Then, with the complete lack of emotion that only a droid could manage, released the atmosphere everywhere on the ship, sending roughly 30,000 Imperials on a one-way trip out an airlock.

And, turning back to Grievous, said, "We are now the uncontested controllers of this ship, sir."


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N  
>Wow. How long has it been? 2 weeks? I am so very sorry for my extended absence. I got sick, then had to catch up on schoolwork, and then the holidays appeared. So yeah, I have had literally no chance to work on this story in a very long time. My most sincere apologies to my readers who have been waiting for an update. This is long overdue. Please, enjoy, and I'll try to get the next installment out in a more timely fashion.<br>A very apologetic EnsignRicky.**

Grievous couldn't have asked for a better outcome. The _Independence_ received almost no damage, and the _Invulnerable_ had given the three pursuing Imperial vessels the slip. He had lost only 200 droids in the boarding of the _Rati_. And, perhaps most importantly, the _Imperial_-class Star Destroyer was his. The damage it had suffered would be repaired after a week in orbit of Atrivis VII, quite an acceptable figure, considering how bad of a state it could have been in.

The immense firepower of the _Rati_ would be invaluable. The V-Wing and ARC-170 starfighters would be good supplements to his own small craft. And who knew how many battle droids the thing could transport?

Upon their return to Atrivis, Grievous ordered the _Rati_ to be put in synchronous orbit with the factories below. The materials needed for repair could be shipped up more easily that way.

The damage the other two ships had sustained were minor, and could be fixed in a few hours. That, too, was a blessing. The _Invulnerable_ could have been destroyed by the pursuing Imperial ships, and the _Independence_ could have been permanently crippled if they had failed to take the _Imperial_-class by surprise. If so much as a lucky shot had hit a critical system, who knew what could have happened?

Having an _Imperial_-class was all well and good, but he needed more ships to take on even a small Imperial fleet. And he doubted many ships would be left in such an inviting position like the recently captured _Rati_. Especially after the stunt he pulled during its commandeering. Ships would be far more closely grouped together, patrols would be larger. It looked like it would just get harder and harder to grab decent ships.

He needed a far more efficient and effective way of getting vessels. There were more than enough vessels out there, but they were just out of reach. It was infinitely infuriating, knowing they existed, but being unable to do anything to seize them.

At least he had plenty of credits available. The excess from mining operations saw to that. Bankruptcy wasn't going to be a problem anytime soon.

Wait... credits... that's it! Many Imperial Officers, he knew, couldn't actually be in support of the Emperor. Quite a few were simply drafted, or had become disillusioned with the whole thing and were waiting for a chance to jump ship. He could give them a chance to do so. A healthy sum of credits to the right person could bring them over to Grievous's cause. Money was an excellent motivator.

And there was another bonus as well. Living, breathing soldiers had motivations, souls, and hopes. Things living creatures possessed that couldn't be replicated in a droid. Unfortunately, living beings had just as many unlikable traits that made them equally annoying. But a combined force of machines and organics, that would be worthwhile.

Of course, he would need to find people who might be willing to do so, had a decent amount of valuable resources, and provided Grievous with sufficient reason not to kill them. If he could get enough officers like that working for him, he would easily be able to survive.

An hour later, after sifting through the Imperial records that had become so valuable to him, he had a small list of likely targets, all just waiting for a call.

* * *

><p>The <em>Gemini<em> was a rather important vessel. Flagship of a small Imperial fleet, it had routinely patrolled Imperial trade routes for the past month, ever since the formation of the Empire. Currently, the ship, along with the rest of the fleet, was stationed on the Correlian Run, aiming to stop smugglers that routinely raided Imperial trade.

Thus far, nothing eventful had occurred during the patrol. The _Imperishable_ had taken a stray asteroid to its bow, but the repairs were almost complete. The only other thing of significance was the odd message that currently occupied the _Gemini_'s captain.

"I assure you, I am loyal to the Empire!" He spluttered into the comm unit, "I would never think of betraying his majesty!"

The strange figure on the other end of the conversation laughed. But it wasn't a humorous laugh. It was far too cold, and metallic to be such. It was completely devoid of humor. "The fact that you didn't shut your comm off the second I said treasonous words about that man proves that you _do_ have thoughts of leaving the Empire. And I can pay you handsomely for doing so."

The captain remained silent. Staring at the hooded thing on the other end of the transmission, he jumped when it suddenly barked, "Now, will you join me or not!? I don't have all day, and if you decide against it, I will have to kill you. Choose quickly, captain."

For some reason, such was the ferocity and fierceness in the thing's voice, that the captain didn't even pause to question the creature's ability to kill him without any means of contact. And so, without even stopping to consider the consequences, he immediately accepted.

And across the galaxy, conversations just like this were occurring all day, with Imperial turncoats throwing aside dignity and what may once have been loyalty in favor of money, self-preservation, or a combination of both.

* * *

><p>Gazing at the twin setting suns fading over the dusty horizon, Obi-Wan Kenobi sat in his old hovel, relaxing for the first time since coming to this hell-hole of a planet. He had found this old dug-out shelter after dropping Luke off at the Lars' homestead, it's previous owner probably killed by wandering tuskens or some other equally gruesome death.<p>

The place was over a ridge from the family, far enough away that he wouldn't disturb the Lars, but close enough to get there quickly if danger arose. And it was vital that he was near enough to reach them if something happened.

Luke was the galaxy's last hope, he and his sister, both separated at birth to protect them from the sith. If Sidious found them, it would be over. If they died before they could stand a chance against the new-born Galactic Empire, it would be over.

Which is why Obi-Wan had agreed to watch over Luke until he was old enough to become a Jedi. Tatooine was a dangerous planet, and only the toughest survive. Even so, as he had once told Anakin, there were worse places to live than Tatooine.

Obi-Wan immediately felt a stab of regret at this thought. Anakin Skywalker, his friend, apprentice, and man he called a brother had betrayed him, and the entire order, to the sith.

He missed his old friend. Even though he was nearly 20 standard years older than Anakin, he had still been closer to him than any man. And striking him down, that had hurt Obi-Wan more than he had ever been hurt before. And that hurt still remained. But he was a Jedi. And that meant channeling out all emotion.

But even so, he would give just about anything to see Anakin walk over one of those dunes and smile at him. Or scowl. He didn't really care. Just seeing his old apprentice again would alleviate his suffering greatly.

But of course, that wasn't possible. Unless Anakin had begun practicing some obscure ritual before he had died, he doubted he could speak to the dead.

However, Obi-Wan did want to speak to him. A multitude of questions flew around his cluttered head. But most significantly, was _why?_ Why did he do it? Joining Sidious, the slaughter at the temple, all of it. Why? Yes, he had loved Padmé, but how that had that caused him to join the Sith, Obi-Wan had no clue.

But again, he is a Jedi. And this is how he knows that these questions will haunt him forever if he lets them. And so he shuts them out, and lets his mind go blank. And he simply sits, and stares at the twin suns as they sink below the horizon.

Then, when the two orbs completely vanish below the dust-ridden earth, he turns and reenters his hovel. The sand will still gather overnight, he knows, and already there is a thin layer from the duration of time he was outside. But the ritual of clearing the sand out, day after day, is somehow comforting to him, soothing, almost. He will do the same thing, every morning, every night, for the next 19 years. But it will be worth it. Every minute.

He could have no greater honor than spending the rest of his years watching over his fallen apprentice's son.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N  
>Hello, again. Thanks for all of the support I got last chapter. I was off camping in the woods last weekend, and it was very, very, cold. So my had trouble moving my fingers for a while, which is why this chapter is a day late. Sorry. After the holidays my writing schedule should revert to its original 3 day rotation period.<br>**

**Oh, and another thing. I haven't looked at the views for this story in awhile, and I looked before posting this chapter. Drumroll, please! As of this posting, we have... 5,707 views! Wow, I guess that shows you guys are really enjoying my writing. Thank you so very much.**

**For some reason, this chapter just seemed really bad to me. I can't figure out why, but If I do, I'll go back and change it. Let me know if you find anything wrong with it!**

A week later, two dozen Imperial vessels had reported to the Generis System. From _Tartar_-class patrol vessels to the massive _Imperial_-class, all with captains who were, more or less, willing to work for Grievous. The crews, on the other hand, had no guarantee of loyalty. There could be a mass revolt at any time if he didn't weed out the trouble-makers.

So now, having called a meeting with all of the vessel captains, he instructed them on policy and what he would be expecting them to do. With several dozen battle droids present, of course, just in case someone got any brilliant ideas. No sense in taking any risks; they could all turn on him at any time. Better to let them know that any sign of rebellious activity would not be tolerated.

"Tomorrow we will have the _Rati_ fully repaired. I will require a captain for it. You will all send me one suggestion from your crew, and I will select the one I deem to be the most qualified. I expect your recommendations within two days. Any questions?"

One of the _Tartar_-class captains tentatively stepped forward. "If I may, a... my l- no, I mean, g-" Grievous growled slightly in annoyance. "I don't care about titles. If you must address me, you will simply call me 'General'. Now say what you have to say."

The man nodded, somewhat confused. In the Imperial Navy, titles were everything. To now work for someone who seemed to have such a disregard for them was... different, to say the least. "Of- of course... General. Will it be possible to recommend... well, ourselves? Because, um, I- no, I-I mean _we_, may desire to-"

Grievous held up a hand to stop him from going further. The Imperials had a way of doing things that far from suited him. The Emperor encouraged deceit, intrigue, and an excessive amount of political maneuvering amongst his subjects. It appeared they expected him to operate the same way. Well, he would have to remedy that.

"I understand," he began, silently scoffing. He understood their situation, but he hardly cared. "That you are used to a different way of doing things. Your former superiors were very different from me. In many ways.

"I am far more direct, and when I tell you I want something done, I mean it. I suspect I'm also... much harsher with punishment. Do not make the mistake of crossing me. There is a very good chance it will be the last thing you ever do." The captains exchanged nervous and apprehensive glances. "Follow my commands and directives well, and you will be rewarded. Show any sign of treachery, incompetence, or idiocy, and I will kill you. Don't think that you are not expendable. You are."

More signs of nervousness. Some of them looked anxiously at the numerous battle droids standing impassively at the exits. The _Tartar_-class captain spoke again. "Right, um... so, regarding my question...?"

He stopped suddenly as Grievous glared at him. "No, you may _not_ recommend yourselves for this position. I am already shorthanded on officers, and having a captain transfer and leave a ship without a commander will cause more problems than it solves. Recommend your first officer, or some other high ranking crew member. Just make sure they're ready to command an _Imperial_-class with a crew of droids."

With the last part of his statement, there were a few voices raised in indignation and cries of protest. A loud hissing sound passed through Grievous's face-plate, filling the room with the ominous noise. The officers fell silent, all of a sudden realizing they may have just made a very big mistake.

Grievous raked each of them with a terrifying gaze. Oh, how having one of their officers serving over a few thousand droids must be an insult to their human superiority. How _inconsiderate_ it was of him not to think of that.

Grievous straightened his mechanical spine, removing the ever-present hunchback appearance from his massive figure completely. Then, he untwisted his ankle joints, adding half-a-meter to his already imposing height. Standing at just over two meters, he loomed over the tallest captain present.

"Does anyone here have a problem with that?" He said, with pure malice in his voice. He looked over the assembled crowd, who were huddling together, probably for moral support. One of the marginally braver ones shook his head. Altogether, they reminded Grievous of a group of startled insects. Which, in reality, was pretty close to the truth. One word came to Grievous's mind. _Pathetic_.

How in the 6 Corellian hells was he supposed to take on an Empire with this lot? They were all weak, cowardly politicians in a military commander's uniform. He doubted most of them had any combat experience whatsoever. It really looked hopeless.

He did have one thing positive thing. The Empire was made up of people just like the shaking, huddling mass in front of him.

* * *

><p>Atzir's whine cut through the air. "But Vader, if we could draw ships away from this station, we would be better able to assault Generis. I don't care how <em>important<em> it is! We need those ships!" The two other captains beside him nodded their agreement.

Darth Vader sighed, and for what seemed like the hundredth time that day, began explaining to these fools why they couldn't draw troops from anywhere else in the sector. Really, why couldn't they just accept the fact that they weren't the emperor? They didn't make the demands here. Vader did.

"This is a tactically important sector," He explained slowly, as if to a child, "And the station you wish to draw ships from is a tactically important location. If we took vessels from its defense force, it would destabilize the entire area. If we did that, we would weaken the Empire, and I'm _sure_ the Emperor wouldn't be happy with that. Would he?"

"Well, no... of course not..." Tzenketh said, backtracking rapidly, "But I've never heard of this 'DS-1 Orbital Battle Station' before. It can't possibly be _that_ important." Atzir and Wilcox clearly agreed. Vader stared incredulously at them. He had assumed that they had been referring to one of the defense satellites, not the Death Star itself. And besides, that was highly classified information! A very select few knew about the Death Star's construction. How could these clowns have figured it out?

In any case, it didn't matter. After this mission was over, they would either be trusted with the information or killed to prevent it from leaking out to the general public. Vader sincerely hoped it was the latter. And he _really_ wanted to kill these annoyances himself.

The three of them were looking expectantly at him, waiting for some form of response. "Listen to me, captain, when I say that it is of sufficient tactical importance to prevent us taking ships from it. And also listen to me when I say this: if I hear another word of protest from any of you, suddenly you will find yourself one limb short. Understood?"

The three of them nodded hastily in agreement. Wilcox opened his mouth to say something, but clearly thought better of it. Vader looked at them for several seconds. Then, finally satisfied, he nodded. Turning and walking towards the door, he said, "We arrive in the Generis system in two days. Be sure your crews are ready and prepared for battle."

**Regarding the holidays: I'm going to be gone for some time, and the earliest I can post will probably be January the 3rd. So I suppose this is the last you'll see of me until after New Years'. So go have fun, and enjoy this time with your families. _Au revoir_!**


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